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3 / ?• 1 3 

A NIGHT OFF 

} 

OR 

A PAGE FROM BALZAC 


A COMED V IN FOUR ACTS 

tf fik 1 ?/y ^ A^tiXXe\, 

(From the German of^Schonthan Brothers) 


AUGUSTIN DALY 


produced at Daly's Theatre for the first time, Wednesday , 
March 4th , z&S’j' 


Copyright, 1897, by Augustin Daly 


^gfUCEOf 

OCT 11 1897. 

Yffer of Co?f^ y 


NEW YORK 

HAROLD ROORBACH, PUBLISHER 

132 Nassau Street 




A NIGHT OFF. 


V.. 



Notice. — The acting rights of this play are reserved by the author. 
Public representation of it, professional or amateur, can be made only 
with the consent of the author or his agents, and on payment of royalty. 
Application for performance should be made to Carl Herrmann, 13 West 
42D Street, New York City. 

“ Any person publicly performing or representing any dramatic or musi¬ 
cal composition for which a copyright has been obtained, without the con¬ 
sent of the proprietor of said dramatic or musical composition, or his heirs 
or assigns, shall be liable for damages therefor, such damages in all casq^ 
to be assessed at such sum, not less than one hundred dollars for the first 
and fifty dollars for every subsequent performance, as to the court shall 
appear to be just. If the unlawful performance and representation be 
wilful and for profit, such person or persons shall be guilty of a misde¬ 
meanor and upon conviction be imprisoned for a period not exceeding 
one year. ” — U.S. Revised Statutes, Title 60, chapter 3, section 4966. 


DRAMATIS PERSONAE AND ORIGINAL CAST. 


JUSTINIAN BABBITT, Professor of ancient history in the 

Camptown university . Mr. James Lewis. 

HARRY DAMASK, his son-in-law . Mr. Otis Skinner. 

JACK MULBERRY, in pursuit of fortune, under the name of 

Chumley .Mr. John Drew. 

LORD MULBERRY, in pursuit of Jack .Mr. Charles Fisher. 

MARCUS BRUTUS SNAP, in pursuit of fame andfortune, under 

various legitimate aliases .. Mr. Charles Leclkrcq. 

PROWL, usher at the university .. Mr. F. Bond. 

MRS. ZANTIPPA BABBITT, Professor of conjugal manage- 

ment in the Professor's household . Mrs. G. H. Gilbert. 

NISBE, the youngest “ imp" of the household Miss Ada Rehan. 

ANGELICA DAMASK, the eldest ..Miss Virginia Dreher. 

SUSAN, the '‘brassiest" . .Miss May Irwin. 

MARIA, servant at Damask's . ..Miss Jean Gordon. 

TIME. — Recently. PLACE.— Near By. 

Time of Representation. — Two. Hours and a Half. 


2 















COSTUMES 


Prof. Babbitt. Act I. — ist dress, plain black suit (frock coat), hat 
and overcoat, all much worn ; 2d dress, dressing-gown substituted for coat; 
3d dress, coat resumed, hat. Act II. —Same as ist dress in Act I. Act 
III. —Old-fashioned evening clothes, much too large for him ; hat and 
overcoat for last entrance. Act IV. — Same as Act III. 

Damask. Acts I., III., and IV.—Business suit ; derby hat; gloves. 
Act III. — House-jacket and cap. 

Jack. Business suit ; derby hat. 

Lord Mulberry. Heavy clothing ; large travelling coat ; muffler ; 
fur gloves; sealskin cap, etc. 

Snap. Acts I. and II. —Very loud clothes, with plenty of jewellery. 
Fur-trimmed ulster ; silk hat. Act III. — Roman costume under the ul¬ 
ster ; old street gaiters. Act IV. — ist dress, trousers and coat much too 
small for him ; Roman breastplate instead of shirt front ; 2d dress, same 
as in Act I. 

Prowl. Plain suit of rusty black. 

Mrs. Babbitt. Act I. —Travelling costume. Act II. —Street dress. 
Act III. — House (dinner) dress. Act IV. — House (morning) dress. 

Nisbe. Act I.— Travelling costume. Act II. — Street dress. Act 
III. — House (dinner) dress ; hat, wrap, and gloves. Act IV. — House 
(morning) dress. 

Angelica. Act I.—Street dress. Act II.—House (morning) dress. 
Act III.—House (dinner) dress. Act. IV.—House (morning) dress. 
Susan. Muslin dress ; linen collar and cuffs ; cap. Hat and shawl in 

Act III. 

Maria. Conventional housemaid’s costume, with hat and shawl. 


PROPERTIES* 

Act. I.—Study-table down L. Smaller table down r. Sofa c., between 
fireplace and footlights. Curtains at alcove. Lounge and table in alcove. 
Bookcases, containing books, against walls. Classical busts. Chairs near 
tables and about stage. Carpet down. Books, papers, writing-materials, 
postal-card, and a letter containing a small bunch of pressed flowers, on 
study-table down L. Books, pamphlets, newspapers, etc., on small table 
down R. Easy-chair at fireplace. Easel, with portrait, R. Table near 
C. Cabinet containing silverware, small boxes, jewel-cases, etc. Pack of 
cards in drawer of table R. Portfolio on table R. Scrap-basket near table 
L. Ornaments on L. table. Footstool. Dusting-cloth and.feather-duster 
for Susan. Load of copy-books for Prowl. Spectacles for Professor. 
Large roll of MSS. in drawer of L. table. Umbrella for Susan. Eyeglass 
for Snap. Four photographs (one of them an opera bouffe character) in 
pocket of Snap’s ulster. Satchels and hand-baggage for Mrs. Babbitt. 
Flowers, satchels, etc., for Nisbe. Eyeglasses for Mrs. Babbitt. 


3 



Act II.—Carpet down. Writing-table c., with desk-chair in front of 
it, and an easy-chair near by at L. Chair R. of table. Sofa r. Easy- 
chair L. Other chairs, and ornaments, pictures, etc., ad lib . Bell and 
writing-materials on table c. Card on tray for Maria. Leather pocket- 
book for Jack, containing photograph, small black curl tied with a pink 
ribbon, crushed rosebud, plain gold ring, package of bills, and pawn-ticket. 
Hat for Jack to enter with. Magazine for Damask. Key in drawer of 
writing-table. Note for JACK. Atomizer, containing cologne, on table C. 
Pocket-book, containing a single bill, for Professor. Watch for Damask. 
Two cigars in paper parcel in Professor’s pocket. Cigars, in case, for 
Damask. Loose matches in Professor’s pocket, and matches, in case, 
for Damask. Handkerchief and MSS. for Snap. 

Act III. —Furnishings used in Act I. Lighted lamps on tables R. and 
l. Fire in grate C. Band music off stage. Copy of Life and bunch 
of keys for Nisbe. Watch for Professor. MSS. in Snap’s pocket. 
Ticket for Jack. Sheet of paper, written, for Snap. Duster for Susan. 
Pen, in holder, and tickets for Professor. Work-baskets and fancy-work 
for Mrs. Babbitt and Angelica. Hat and overcoat for Professor. 
Hat for Damask on table near c. Door-bell off L. c. Pocket-book and 
contents used in Act II. Small medicine vial for Mrs. Babbitt. Tea 
and tea-service for Susan. Roman costume for Snap to wear under ulster. 

Act IV. — Furniture, bric-a-brac, etc., as per. Act I. Large rug for 
Snap. Tray, with breakfast, for Susan. Large valise for Nisbe. Basket 
for Susan. Watch for Jack. Valise, half filled, for Professor. Wear¬ 
ing-apparel in alcove up r. c. Watch for Mulberry. Clothes-basket, 
nearly full of knickknacks, for Susan. 


abbreviations. 

In observing, the player is supposed to face the audience. C. means 
centre; R., right ; L., left ; R. c., right of centre ; L. c., left of centre ; 
C. D., centre door ; R. D., right door ; L. D., left door ; D. R. c., door right 
of centre ; d. l. c., door left of centre ; D. f., door in the fiat; C. D. f., 
centre door in the flat ; R. d. f., right door in the flat; L. D. f., left door 
in the flat; i G., 2 G., 3 G., etc., first, second, or third grooves, etc.; 1. E, 
2 E., 3 E., etc., first, second, or third entrances, etc.; R. u. E., right upper 
entrance; L. u. e., left upper entrance; up, up stage or toward the rear; 
down, down stage or toward the audience; x., means to cross the stage; 
X. R., cross toward the right; x. L., cross toward the left. 

R R. c. C. L. C. L. 


4 



A NIGHT OFF; 

OR, 

A PAGE FROM BALZAC 


ACT I. 

SCENE. — The Professor’s Study. At back c., a mantel 
andfireplace. At r. c., an alcove which can be closed with 
a curtain, backed by a window, and reached by a step or 
two. At L. c., general entrance to the apartment. Doors, 
R. and l. Down l. a study-table, full of books, papers, 
etc. Down r. a smaller table 7 vith books, etc., newspapers 
and pamphlets. A sofa at c., between fire and front. A 
lounge and table in the alcove. Bookcases against the 
walls, classical busts, etc. 

The curtain rises to a very bustling air, and Susan is 
discovered wiping the dust from the furniture with a cloth, 
her duster under her arm. BEAD Y Prowl, to enter l. c. 

Susan. Not much of a job to dust the house when missus 
is away. The Professor wouldn’t know if the dust was an 
inch thick on everything. (Picks up a folded country news¬ 
paper.) Here’s the morning paper not opened. Let’s see 
what’s in it. (Leans against table as she opens the paper. 
Suddenly gives a start.) Oh, my ! Here’s a start. (Beads.) 
“Opera House. Special Announcement. The Grandest 
Combination of Dramatic Talent in the World. The under¬ 
signed respectfully announces the appearance of the renowed 

5 



6 


A Night Off; or, A Page from Balzac* 


Central Park Combination in a series of their brilliant per¬ 
formances, pronounced by press and public the neplus ultra 
of dramatic representations.” ( Speaks. ) Gracious ! don’t that 
sound splendid ? {Reads.) “ The management guarantees 
that each performer in this Matchless Troupe is an ac¬ 
knowledged Star — the whole forming a galaxy of histrionic 
constellations. Having recently concluded a brilliant en¬ 
gagement at the New York Central Park Casino before the 
wealth and culture of the Metropolis, will appear before the 
discriminating and intelligent public of this far-famed Uni¬ 
versity Centre, on Monday evening, March ist, and every 
evening until further notice. Each performance will be 
under the personal supervision of the public’s most obedient 
servant, Marcus Brutus Snap, Manager. For particulars, 
see programmes. No connection with any other combina¬ 
tion on the road.” {Speaks.) Well! I know this much. 
While Mrs. Babbitt’s away, I’ll go to the theatre every night. 
Catch her letting me out if she was home ! {Putspaper on 
table , L.) 

Prowl, a severe man, ENTERS with a load of copy-books. 

Prowl (l., in surly tone). Professor in ? 

Susan {putspaper down). Be back presently. What have 
you got there ? 

Prowl. Composition books. Fourth class. Fifty-two of 
’em. {Puts them on table , crosses to R.) 

Susan. And when have we got to look over them ? 

Prowl. By day after to-morrow. 

[READY Professor, to enter l. c. 

Susan {crosses to l. table , opens one of the books and 
reads). “ The Second Punic War.” Great jiminy! The 
Professor will shudder when he sees ’em. Say, do you 
know, these Punic Wars generally strike us every year about 
the same time, just as we are pickling cucumbers ? 

Prowl. It’s the everlasting round that drives me mad. 


A Night Off; or, A Page from Balzac. 


7 


The boy, like history, repeats himself. I hate boys. I’ve 
been usher twenty-five years, and I hates ’em. I have 
dreams in which I cuts off millions of ’em at a blow. 

Susan (who has been looking over a book). Did you 
ever hear such a dunce ? Listen to what this chap writes : 
“The First Punic War having finished in the year 241 b.c., 
the Second Punic War commenced in the year 218 b.c., or 
just 23 years after.” Now, did you ever! As if the year 
218 could come after the year 241 ! ( Slams book on the pile. 

Crosses to R.) 

Prowl. I wish that was the worst they did. 

The Professor ENTERS from the street , l. c., in hat and 
overcoat. Both much worn. He wears gold spectacles. 

Professor (c.). Now, Prowl! What brings you here? 

Prowl (l.). Brought the composition books. ( Points 

to them.) 

Prof, (assisted by Susan in removing his coat). Oh, very 
well. 

Susan (r.). They’re full of mistakes, too. 

Prof. Indeed ! ( Gives her his hat and coat.) 

Susan. And the umbrella ? 

Prof. What umbrella ? 

Susan. Oh, dear! The new silk one, Professor. I re¬ 
minded you not to leave it behind you again. 

Prof, (c., uneasily). Have I really — 

Susan. Of course! What day is this ? Wednesday! 
Ancient history, fifth class, from 2 to 3; first class from 3 to 
4. Run and look for it, Mr. Prowl. ( Crosses to c.) 

Prof. It may be in the faculty’s room. 

Prowl. Very good, Professor. 

Susan ( calls after him). Dark brown ! The handle 
shakes a little, and the catch is missing. [Prowl EXITS. 

Prof, (who has come dow?i to his writing-table , l.). No 
letters from my wife, Susan ? 


8 


A Night Off; or, A Page from Balzac* 


Susan. No, sir. 

Prof. None to-day. None yesterday. I hope nothing 
has happened. 

Susan. What could have happened? Don’t worry. 

Prof. Has anybody called? 

Susan. Yes, sir ; gentleman to see you. Half an hour ago. 

Prof. Who was it ? 

\READY Damask and Angelica, to enter l. c. 

Susan. I don’t know him. Odd-looking gentleman. 
Smooth-shaved face, lots of rings on his hand. Said he’d 
call again in half an hour. 

Prof. Very good. We’ll see who it is. 

Susan. What shall I cook for supper, sir ? 

Prof. Don’t bother me about that. Cook what you 
please. 

Susan. That’s what you always say, and when I do you 
won’t touch anything. 

Prof, {with a sigh). I have no appetite. 

Susan. Of course you haven’t. You study, and write, 
and work, day and night. You should take exercise. Pro¬ 
fessor, try roller-skating. ( Struck with idea.) But wait till 
the theatre comes; you shall go every night. 

Prof. The theatre ? 

Susan. Yes. Didn’t you read the paper ? Here it is. 
{Points topaperi) Opera House, March ist. 

Damask puts his head in door , l. c. 

Damask. Good-morning, papa! There’s a charming 
little woman in the next room. Shall I bring her in ? 

Prof. A charming — ? Oh, you mean your wife. Cer¬ 
tainly, certainly. {Gets r.) 

Angelica pushes Damask aside and looks in. Susan 
EXITS , l. c. 

Angelica. Papa, do you want this . horrid creature to 
come in, too ? 


A Night Off; or, A Page from Balzac* 


9 


Prof. (r.). Come in, you big, overgrown children ; you 
show yourselves seldom enough to your poor forsaken 
father. 

Dam. ( comvig down, c.). I know it's wrong, but we are 
so snug and happy together. 

Ang. (l.). And Harry’s away all day — 

Prof, (crosses to c.). Of course.. It's right. It's right. 

Ang. But you should come to see us. 

Dam. What do you do with yourself all alone ? 

Prof. (c.). It’s dull enough. I had no idea I should 
miss your mamma and Nisbe so much. 

Ang. When did you hear from them last ? 

Prof. ( crosses to l., handing her a letter from table , L.). 
Day before yesterday. 

Ang. (opens letter). Pressed flowers inside. How ro¬ 
mantic of mamma! (Takes out a small bunch of pressed 
flowers .) 

Prof. Nisbe picked them in her walks. (Crosses to c.) 

Ang. So nice. (Reads letterl) 

Dam. (r.). So the Springs are doing mamma some 
good ? 

Prof. (c.). Yes ; but not me. (Takes him one side.) I 
say, my dear boy, these watering-places cost a great deal of 
money. I’ve reckoned it up. I won't get off for less than 
four hundred and sixty dollars. 

Dam. (r.). But it was really indispensable for your 
wife’s health. 

Prof. And for Nisbe’s too. The girl is twenty, and 
must be shown about a little. But you know how closely I 
have to manage with my salary. Four hundred and sixty 
dollars make a big hole in my calculations. I have bridged 
it temporarily by drawing on Nisbe’s money in the savings 
bank, but that must be replaced, for if my wife found it out 
— (nervously). 

Dam. It might be unpleasant. 


iO A Night Off; or, A Page from Balzac* 


Prof. I wonder if I ought to risk a little in stocks. 

Dam. Professor — don’t think of it. 

Prof. Other people do it. 

Dam. But you know nothing about stocks. 

Prof. That’s so. ( Crosses to r.) But there’s no money 
to be made with what I do know about. 

Ang. Mamma and Nisbe seem to be enjoying themselves. 
(Folding the letter .) 

\READ Y Susan, with umbrella , to enter l. c. 

Prof. ( crosses to c.). I don’t begrudge ’em, but I have 
to live like a hermit. 

Ang. (l., rising). Poor papa! What do you do with 
yourself ? 

Prof. I’ve tried everything. Put my library in order. 
Rummaged through my letters and manuscripts as far back 
as my college days. ( Crosses to L.) Stop ! I’ve unearthed 
this thing here and really got some pleasure out of it. 
( Takes a large roll of MSS. from drawer.) 

Dam. ( crosses to c., takifig it). What is it ? Look’s like 
poetry. 

Prof. (l.). It's worse ! It’s a tragedy. 

Ang. (r.). Written by you ? 

Prof. Yes; at college. What student has not written a 
Roman tragedy. When I read it over again the other day, I 
enjoyed it immensely. Of course it’s crude and unfinished, 
but there’s snap in it, 

Susan ENTERS , l. c., with the umbrella. 

and fire — the fire of youth. Isn’t there, Susan ? 

Susan ( clasping the umbrella to her bosom , and with a 
heavenward sigh). O Professor ! 

Prof. ( crosses to Damask). You must know I read it to 
her. 

Dam. and Ang. (laughing). Read it to Susan ! Ha, ha, 
ha ! 


A Night Off; ot, A Page from Balzac* \\ 

Prof. (l. c.). Laugh away. I never see you, and a man 
must read his good things to somebody. So Susan had to 
suffer. 

Susan. O Professor ! I loved to listen to it. Mr. Harry 
{crosses to him), it’s a heavenly piece ! But so sad ! Oh, so 
sad ! ( Wipes her eyes and sobs.) 

Prof. Now don’t commence to howl again. 

Susan (crying). I can’t help it. If I only see the writing, 
I must cry. It’s just like peeling onions. (EXITS, l. c.) 

[Angelica takes up a book from table, r., and reads. 

Prof. You see how I’ve degenerated these last four 
weeks. Reading my youthful donkeyisms to a servant. 

Dam. No harm in that. Moliere read his plays to his 
housekeeper. The criticism of an unhackneyed mind — 

Ang. (starting up). Oh ! oh ! this is too horrible ! (Goes 
across to table, L. She still carries in her hand the pressed 
flowers. She also takes over the book she has bee?i readmg. 
Throws herself o?i seat.) 

Prof. What is it ? 

Dam. What’s the matter ? 

Ang. O papa! Is the man who wrote this book to be 
believed ? 

Prof, (adjusts his spectacles, and looks at title of book). 
Balzac ! (Smiles.) Well, I believe he’s considered a judge 
of human nature. 

Ang. (throws flowers into basket). Is he ? (Crosses to 
Damask.) Then, sir, what have you got to say ? 

Dam. Say to what ? 

Ang. There ! Please read for yourself. (Shows an open 
page) 

Dam. (r., reads). “ Every bride that lives — if she could 
but know the past and secret life of her husband — would 
renounce him even at the steps of the altar.” Well! (Re- 
turns book?) 

Ang. Well ? What has your past life been ? 


12 A Night Off; or, A Page from Balzac* 

Dam. Really, my love — 

Ang. Papa, what has his past life been ? 

Prof. Nonsense! 

Ang. (c., mimicking them). “ Really, my love ! ” “ Non¬ 

sense ! ” You won’t get off with that. Here is the book. 
Confess. 

Dam. But I haven’t anything to confess. 

Ang. Then how could the man make such an asser¬ 
tion ? 

Dam. Simply, he didn’t know me, that’s all. 

Ang. We’ll see if you’ll be so witty when we get 
home. You think papa protects here. Good-evening, papa ! 
(Throws book on table , l.) 

Prof. Going so soon ? 

Dam. ( crosses to her'). Angelica, listen to reason. 

Ang. ( waving him off). We’ll talk it over at home. 

SPREAD Y Susan and Snap, to enter L. c. 

Dam. Nice prospect! 

Prof. (, getting r.). You’re both always telling me about 
your domestic happiness, and every time I see you, you end 
up in a quarrel. 

Ang. ( half crying). You take his part, do you ? Oh, if 
mamma were only home ! I’d soon know everything. ( Goes 
to door.) 

Dam. Wait for me. I’ll go with you. 

Ang. Don’t trouble yourself. {EXITS, l. c.) 

Dam. {after a pause , during which he and the Professor 
look at each other). Professor, I don’t wish to reproach you, 
but if I ever have a daughter, I’ll train her up to place im¬ 
plicit confidence in her husband. {EXITS, l. c.) 

Prof. Will you ? Then you’ll have a hard job of it. But 
I’ll take this as a warning. Balzac shall be concealed. If 
my wife got hold of it, she’d be quite capable of putting co¬ 
nundrums to me. {Hurries off, l., with the book.) 

Susan ENTERS, l. c. 


A Night Off; or, A Page from Balzac* \Z 


Susan. Step in here, please. 

Snap ENIDjRS, l. c. ; wears a fur-trimmed overcoat, and is 
very loud in style. 

Snap. Exactly. ( Removes hat, which he places on table.) 

Susan. I told the Professor you had called before. 

Snap. Thanks! Thanks! 

Susan (crosses to l.). I’ll tell him you’ve come again. 

Snap. Just one minute, please. ( Takes off his overcoat, 
and lays it on chair with his hat. Displays a very loud get-up 
underneath. Throws his f?-ock coat open, and dangles his eye¬ 
glass with a light comedy, but theatrical air.) We must get 
ready for the first entrance. Have the goodness to say that 
Mr. Marcus Brutus Snap begs the favor of an interview. 

Susan (amazed). Mr. Snap ! Lor! The manager ! 

Snap. You may say to the Professor that I am calling on 
the most prominent people of the place, and add that I am 
my own advance agent. We billed the town last night. 

[Susan going. 

Stay! One word more. Is the family fond of the drama ? 

Susan (l.). Oh, no indeed! Since I lived here none of 
’em ever went to the theatre. 

Snap. And a — how — how — long have you lived here ? 

Susan. Ten years the Fourth of July. 

Snap. Ten years without the drama ! I have heard that 
it was a one-night town. I believe it. And why — why don’t 
you go to the theatre ? 

Susan. Mrs. Babbitt won’t allow it. 

Snap. How about Mr. Babbitt ? 

Susan. Oh, he’s written a play. 

Snap. The deuce he has ! 

Susan. If you don’t believe me, there it is on his desk 
now. Oh, that’s a piece, I can tell you! It’s all about the 
Romans and the Greeks. 

Snap. Has it ever been produced ? 


H A Night Off; or, A Page from Balzac* 

Susan ( indignantly ). No. Nobody ever seen it even — 
but me. 

Snap. Ah ! ( Meditatively .) 

Susan. Sir ? 

Snap (still meditating). There’s more in this. 

Susan. No, there’s no more than this one. 

Snap (^recovering). I crave your pardon ! Stay, another 
word. The Professor is one of the leading men in the Uni¬ 
versity ? 

Susan. I should think so. When he crosses the street 
all the boys take off their hats. 

[. READ Y Professor, in dressing-gown , to enter l. d. 

Snap (r.). So —- so. (Reflectively .) 

Susan. What’s the matter ? 

Snap (recovering). Ha ! nothing — ’tis the heat. 

Susan. I’ll tell the Professor. 

Snap. That’s right. 

Susan (going). Cricky! To think he should come to our 
house ! (EXIT, l. door.) 

Snap (natural). Now, my boy, for a little diplomacy. 
When we played in Nantucket, two years ago, I worked a 
little thing like this to perfection. The leading banker of 
the place had a daughter. The daughter had written a 
play. I produced it. It was the worst I ever read, but we 
jammed the house. The old man brought the whole town 
with him. Then my wife gave it for her benefit, and we sold 
the house out again. Two crammed houses in one week. 
Shakespeare couldn’t have done it — but the bank did. 

The Professor ENTERS l. door, in a dressing-gown. 

Prof. You wish to see me, I believe ? 

Snap (r.).' I have taken the liberty of calling to invite 
your attention to the programme of my company which is 
about to appear at the Opera House. The district judge, 
who is now in town, has signified his intention of helping us, 


A Night Off; or, A Page from Balzac* \5 


So have the — the — several others ! You know the district 
judge, of course ? There are five very good seats right along¬ 
side the district judge, and I reserved them for your family, 
in the hope that — that — 

Prof. I am very sorry, but we never' go to the theatre. 

Snap. You will make an exception with us. We give a 
varied programme, — “Romeo and Juliet,” “Frou-Frou,” 
“ 7-20-8,” “ Macbeth ” and “ Pinafore.” 

Prof. Variety enough. 

Snap. And we play them, sir, right up ! They go like a 
greased wheel. 

Prof. Really? 

Snap. It’s absolutely a star performance. My wife and 
myself appear in everything. You could wake us up in the 
middle of the night and we’d give you the whole repertoire' 
without a break. As for the company — all artists! You, 
understand, artists! My leading young man is a marvel — 
stepped from the drawing-room to the stage. English, of 
course ! There’s a mystery about him, and a family history 
— a history and a mystery ! The moment he comes on, you 
see that you have got the real thing before you. 

Prof, (l., shifting his position uneasily). Indeed! 

Snap. It’s my specialty to find unknown talent. It’s the 
same with authors. I have brought men forward who have 
made fortunes. Last year in^ Nantucket — this in confi¬ 
dence — a young lady, of a wealthy family, gave me her 
maiden effort — a tragedy. 

Prof. ( interest ). And you produced it ? ( Indicates a seat.) 
Sit down. 

Snap, (sits eagerly , and draws his chair near Professor). 

I produced it, and it succeeded! (Slaps Professor’s knee.) 
We sold the house out six nights running. My wife played 
the principal part, and there wasn’t a dry eye in the theatre. 
Now they play it everywhere, outside of New York, and the 
fair author’s coining money. 


i6 A Night Off; ot f A Page from Balzac. 

Prof. Is it possible? (Very reflectively?) 

Snap. It's the solemn fact. ( Rising and putting chair 
hack?) But I won’t detain you; you are busy. 

Prof. ( detains him). Not at all, my dear sir. Pray go 
on. 

Snap. No ; I’ve intruded too long already, and as you 
don’t take any interest in theatricals — 

Prof. Well, I can hardly say that; you see, I — I — I — 
have a friend who has written a play ! 

Snap. No ! (Aside?) He nibbles. 

Prof. I happen to have the manuscript by me. (Points to 
table.) It’s a Roman tragedy, founded on the historical in¬ 
cident of the abduction of the Sabine maidens by the Roman 
warriors. 

Snap. A Roman tragedy ! The very thing for us. My 
company is especially adapted for Roman tragedy, my wife 
particularly. Might I beg a glance — 

[READ V Susan, to enter l. c. 

Prof, (taking up the MSS.). I hardly know — 

Snap. Oh, you may rely on me. I’m all discretion. What 
does he call it ? 

Prof. (l.). “ The Beautiful Sabine.” 

Snap. Splendid title ! Immense ! Catching ! 

Prof. You think so ? 

Snap. Oh, superb ! Think of it on a three-sheeter : — 
“ The Beautiful Sabine ! ” Oh, there’s draft in that title ! 
You must let me read it. I HI take it with me, and bring it 
back in the morning. 

Prof. No — no — I can’t let it out of my hands. 

Snap. Very good. We won’t quarrel about that. I’ll 
read it here on the spot — that is, with your permission 
(trying to get MSS.). 

Prof. Well, I don’t know how I can — 

Snap. Put me quietly into a corner for half an hour, and 
I’ll skip right through it. 


A Night Off; or, A Page from Balzac. \7 


Susan ENTERS , l. c. 

Susan. Professor, there’s a gentleman called to see you. 
I asked his name, and he said, “ No matter on second 
thoughts tell him Mulberry.” 

[READY Mulberry, to enter l. c. 

Prof. (l.). “No matter on second thoughts tell him 
Mulberry ” i I don’t know any one of that name. 

Susan. He said, “ Tell the Professor it’s an old friend of 
his.*’ 

Prof. He’s nothing of the kind. What impudence! 
('Crosses c.) 

Snap. Must be a book agent; I recognize the cheek. 

Prof. Did you tell him I was in ? 

Susan. I can’t tell a lie, Professor, and I did. 

Prof, (sighs'). That being the case, show him up. 

Susan (aside). They’ve got the play out! Oh, cricky! 
we’ll go to the theatre every night! (EXITS, crossing to 
l. c.) 

Prof. If you really insist on glancing over this — ahem 
—- trifle, step in yonder, and draw the curtains; you won’t be 
disturbed. (Gives MSS. to Snap, and points to alcove , r. c.) 

Snap. Oh, make me quite at home. No ceremony with 
me (going). (Aside.) I’ll produce it if it’s worse than the 
banker’s daughter’s. (EXITS, up r. c.) 

Lord Mulberry ENTERS briskly, l. c., muffled in travel¬ 
ling-coat, shawl round throat, big fur gloves, etc. 

Mulberry (l.). Ah. my dear sir, there you are; I haven’t 
much time to spare — just travelling through, but here I am. 
(Grasps both hands.) 

Prof, (aside). I never saw the man in my life. 

Mul. (crosses r., unwrapping shawl). I keep my word, 
you see. 

Prof, (aside). He’s taking off his things. (Aloud.) Ex¬ 
cuse me, but I really — 


18 A Night Off; or, A Page from Balzac* 

Mul. ( pausing in the act of disrobing). You don’t remem¬ 
ber me ? 

Prof. To be quite honest about it — 

Mul. ( eying him). Why, Mulberry ! 

Prof. Mulberry! Ah, to be sure! Mulberry (aside), 
not an idea. 

Mul. Let me remind you. You were in New York two 
years ago. 

Prof. Yes ; on business. 

Mul. I suppose so. I met you at a matine'e. 

Prof. I sometimes — 

Mul. So do I. (Chuckles.) We sat next each other, and 
got into conversation. I told you I was an Englishman, and 
you told me you were an American. I was surprised to hear 
it, as you speak the language so correctly. You described 
the hole of a place where you lived, and I said I might call 
and hunt you up, if I passed through. If it’s not agreeable, 
I’ll go. (Begins to wrap up again.) 

Prof, (apologetically). Not at all! not at all! 

Mul. Not at all agreeable ? 

Prof. I mean to say I’m delighted. (Aside.) I’m not 
like Susan, I can tell a lie. (Aloud.) Pray, sit down (They 
sit.) I’m only sorry that my wife is not here. She is now 
at the White Sulphur Springs with my daughter. 

Mul. Ah, with Angelica ? 

Prof, (astonished). No; with Sophonisba. 

Mul. Oh, the youngest. Angelica was suffering from 
hay-fever. Is she better ? 

Prof. Thank you, yes. She is married. (Aside.) I 
must have been very confidential with him. 

Mul. (presses his hand to his head and speaks solemnly). 
Is the marriage a happy one ? 

Prof. Remarkably so. The young people live like tur¬ 
tle-doves (aside), or did until this afternoon. 

Mul. (crosses to l. — strikes table with his clinched fst). 
Death and furies ! 


A Night Off; or, A Page from Balzac. 


19 


Prof. ( bounds up). I beg pardon. 

Mul. (sits, l. To himself, in a passion). The luck — 
the blind luck that some people have with their sons and 
daughters ! 

Prof. I trust you’ve had no bad luck with yours. 

Mul. (glares at him). You actually talk as if I had not 
told you the whole story. 

Prof, (nervously). Oh, I remember — your daughter. 

Mul. (savagely). No ; I have no daughter. My son, my 
son John, the rascal! (Bangs ladle.) 

[.READY Snap, to appear behind curtain. 

Prof. Oh, yes ! your son John, the rascal! 

Mul. (piteously and half crying). Things went on just as 
I told you they would. 

Prof. ( bewildered). You surprise — you alarm me. 

Mul. (crossly). How can it alarm you ? How could 
they turn out differently? He wouldn’t study; he wouldn’t 
go into the army; he would run into debt; he would fall 
in love with every designing minx, and now he’s bolted. 
(Brings his fist down again.) Bolted ! 

\_The Professor moves the inkstand, etc., out of his way. 
Now I have no son. It’s all over. 

Prof, (back to c.) But such a promising young man — 

Mul. Promising ! Egad ! T couldn’t get him to promise. 
(Pulling his chair nearerl) I’ll tell you the whole story. 

Prof, (sighs). Oh, dear ! 

[Snap looks in from behind curtain. 

Snap. Professor! Professor! 

Mul. (impatie?it). What the devil’s that ? 

Prof, (rises). Excuse me one moment. (Goes to Snap.) 
What do you want ? 

Snap (meeting him). Don’t be offended, but I couldn’t 
sit there and contain my joy. 

Prof, (tickled). Have you read it ? 

Snap. I’ve been through the first act. It’s simply grand! 


20 A Night Off; or, A Page from Balzac* 

Such a picture of human passion — and the words, the dia¬ 
logue ! 

Prof. You really think it could be performed? 

Snap. It would be an outrage, Professor, to leave such a 
work in the closet. It belongs to the stage. To my stage. 

Prof. But I must consider — 

Mul. ( bounds up). If you’re busy, I’ll go. 

Prof, impressing him back into seat, returns). No, no. I'll 
be at your service in one moment. ( Back to Snap.) Read 
the other acts. They’re all better than the first. 

Snap. No, Professor. With all respect, they can’t be 
better. That’s simply impossible. They may be stronger, 
but they can’t be better. {Aside.) I've got him ! I’ve got 
him ! ( Disappears behind curtain.) 

Prof, {returns to seat). Now, my dear sir. {He is much 
dated and rubs his hands.) 

Mul. Let me see— how much did I tell you that day at 
the matine'e ? 

Prof. Well, the fact is that my mind has been so occu¬ 
pied since— 

Mul. {testily). Then there’s nothing left for me but to 
go all over it again. 

Prof, {shakes his head). No ! no ! no ! 

Mul. To make a short story, my wife was a woman of 
romantic ideas — all poetry, no. fortune. We were married 
in ’48. 

Prof. ’48-’85, thirty-seven years ago. 

Mul. How time passes ! Well, my eldest son was born. 

Prof. Yes, yes ; John, the rascal. 

Mul. No, sir ; Reginald Plantagenet and Victor Chol- 
mondely came before John. John is the youngest and the 
worst. 

' Snap RE-ENTERS. 

Snap. Gentlemen, I beg a thousand pardons'— {to Pro¬ 
fessor) but I have a question to ask. 


A Night Off; or, A Page from Balzac. 


21 


Prof. What is it ? ( Without rising.') 

Snap ( bending down to his ear). Is there any local mil¬ 
itary organization in the town, or a fire company, or any¬ 
thing of that sort ? 

Prof. Why ? 

Snap. Well, for the grand procession of priests at the 
end of the second act. It requires a large supernumerary 
force, and if we can get a local organization — eh? See? 

Prof. I can’t possibly say. (Rises and puts chair back?) 

Mul. (rising). I’ll call another time. (Puts chair back.) 

Prof, (absejitly). Any time. 

Mul. (severely). I am confiding a most important family 
matter to you, and you let me stand here — 

Prof, (mildly and bewildered). I’m really very busy at 
present. 

Mul. (testily). Do you think I have nothing to do ? j 
must catch the 5-30 express. 

[READ Y Susan, to enter l. c. 

Prof. What a pity ! 

Mul. Pity won’t keep this train back. (Wraps up?) 
When I get through in New York, I’ll run up again for a 
day, and I hope (looking at Snap) we shall not be inter¬ 
rupted. 

Prof. The very thing. Come when you can. Don’t hurry. 

Mul. Pray, remember .where we left off. I don’t want 
to begin all over again. 

Prof. No, no ; anything but that. 

Mul. Present my regards to your wife, but not a word to 
her about Jack. I wish the matter kept profoundly secret, 
for the present. (Wrings Professor’s hand warmly, wipes 
away a tear, pats Professor’s shoulder'.) Jack, Jack, why did 
you bolt! (EXITS, l. c.) 

Prof. What a man! ( To Snap.) I assure you, I 

haven’t the remotest notion who he is! (Rings bell sud¬ 
denly and calls.) Susan ! 


22 


A Night Off; or, A Page from Balzac* 


Susan £ ALTERS, l. c. 

Susan. Yes, sir. 

Prof. (l.). If that gentleman calls again, I’m not at 
home. I’ve gone out and won’t be back. I’ve joined an 
exploring expedition to the North Pole. You tell him that, 
and I’ll take the consequences. 

Susan. Very well. I wash my hands of it. (EXITS, 
L. c., shaking her head.) 

Snap (r., who has been turning over the pages of the MSS. 
at r. table). Professor, I am willing to stake my reputation 
on this production. That situation at the end of act third 
can be worked up to create furious enthusiasm in the audi¬ 
ence. Only see ! In front you have the Roman soldiers 
each with a shrieking maiden in his ruthless grasp. At 
back, in centre, King Titus Tatius with arms raised to 
Heaven, invoking a malediction on the foe. - At that instant 
the moon rises in crimson radiance, throwing a gory splen¬ 
dor over the tableau. I’ll stake any Saturday night’s re¬ 
ceipts against a penny whistle that we send the people home 
raving. 

Prof. Well then, Mr. Snap, I’ll tell you the truth about 
the play. It’s not by a friend. It’s by myself. 

Snap. I knew it. I knew it from the first. Ah, you 
can’t deceive me, Professor. 

Prof. And you will admit that in my position as a lead¬ 
ing functionary of the University, and with my family con¬ 
nections opposed to theatrical representations — I can’t 
think of producing the play. 

Snap. Why not ? Your name needn’t appear. We an¬ 
nounce it — by a gentleman of this city. 

Prof. No; it would be sure to leak out. The actors 
would tell. 

Snap (r.). Rely on us. There’s no blabbing in my es¬ 
tablishment. My wife sees to that. 

Prof. ( crosses to r.). Your wife ? (Aside.) That re- 


A Night Off; or, A Page from Balzac* 23 


minds me of my wife. If she should discover! (Aloud.) 
No, no. Put it out of your head, Mr. Snap. It won’t do. 

Snap (entreatingly). And, Professor, don’t rob a poor 
manager of his one chance of making a fortune ! (Keenly.) 
And don’t rob yourself! Think of the money pouring in 
when it’s brought out in every city of the Union. Your 
five hundred a week coming in as regularly as your Saturday 
breakfast. 

Prof, (wavering). But if it doesn’t succeed — 

Snap. Let us put it in rehearsal, and if you say at the 
last moment, “ Don’t do it,” I’ll take it off. 

Prof. Well, if you leave that road open for retreat ( im¬ 
pressively ), and pledge the profoundest secrecy 

[Snap lays his hand on his heart, and lifts the other 
heavenward, moving his lips in dumb oath. 
so that I won’t run any risk, I may—I say I may make 
up my mind to consent. 

Snap (joyfully). Your mind is made up, Professor! I 
see it shining on the very tip of your nose. 

[Professor touches his nose absently. 
It’s settled. (Wrings his hand.) I’ll bill it for the opening. 
(Goes for his coat.) 

Prof. (r.). That’s only a week. 

Snap. March ist! No postponement! 

Prof, (aside). My wife won’t be home for a fortnight 
at least. That will do very well. (Aloud.) Are you sure 
you can cast all the. parts in your troupe ? 

Snap. We have cast Shakespeare from end to end. Let 
me tell you what I’ll do for you, Professor. (Puts MSS. in 
his coat pocket.) To prevent any chance of failure, I will 
play King Titus Tatius myself. I felt that part as I read it. 

Prof, (reflectively). Yes — but—. He ought to be a 
person of very large and venerable and imposing presence. 
Don’t you think so ? 

Snap. That isn’t all, Professor. ( Crosses to r. with an 


24 


A Night Off; or, A Page from Balzac. 


air.) Grace, royal action, dignity, that’s what the part 
needs. My wife will play Yirgia, the heroine. That woman 
was born for the part— it’s written all over her, so to speak. 

Prof. Indeed! 

Snap. I’ve got some of her photos with me. ( Takes 
photographs from pocket of his ulster, which he has thrown over 
back of chair, c.) There she is as Lady Macbeth ! ( Hands 

one to the Professor.) There she is as Frou-Frou. There 
she is as Juliet, and here she is as Olivette. Her range is 
wonderful. 

Prof. It must be. 

Snap. If you’ll allow me. ( Takes them back fro?n the Pro¬ 
fessor.) I’ll leave one here as a memento. I think the 
Olivette is the best. Gives the best expression — shows 
more of her. (Sets photograph of an opera-bouffe character on 
table l., facing the audience. ) And now, sir, I’ll take my 
leave. {Puts MSS. in pocket.) 

Prof. (r.). But one word, Mr. Snap. The — the part of 
Virgia is a — a — a very young girl, and your wife, eh ! 
don’t you think ? '{READ Y Susan, to enter l . c. 

Snap. Oh, that doesn’t matter ! That woman has a 
power of facial transformation that has paralyzed the critics 
of two hemispheres. They call her “The Chameleon.” Be¬ 
sides, she’s the only woman in the company that can play 
the part. I can see her at this moment at the end of act 
second, as she flings herself before King Romulus, tears the 
tunic from her shoulders (he has his coat half on, and now 
tears it off, suiting actioji to word), casts it at his feet, and 
cries : — 

“ Though keen thy sword ; victorious thy banner, 

Thou canst of life deprive me, not of honor.” 

(Drops on his knee, then picks up his coat, etc.) I have the 
honor. (EXITS, l. c.) 


A Night Off; o t y A Page from Balzac* 25 


Prof. ( comes forward, rubbing his hands in ecstasy). If my 
wife only gives me two weeks longer, and nobody suspects, 
I’ll do it. 

Susan ENTERS, hurrying in, l. c. 

Susan. Professor, Professor, he’s taking our tragedy with 
him ! 

Prof. Who ? 

Susan. The manager. I saw it; he had it under his 
arm. 

Prof. ( crossing to l.). But I tell you — 

Susan {slyly). Ah, Professor ! Can’t I see how the land 
lies ? It’s going to be produced at a real theatre, by real 
actors. 

Prof. (l.). Hush ! Don’t bellow it all over the place. 

Susan ('whispers ). Mustn’t nobody know it ? 

Prof. Of course not! Don’t you dare to breathe a word 
of it to anybody — above all, not to my wife. {Aside.) I’ll 
write her at once to stay another fortnight. {Sits at table, l., 
to write.) 

[.READ Y Mrs. Babbitt, with satchels and hand- 
baggage, to enter L. c. 

Susan {while he writes). Oh, trust me, there sha’n’t a soul 
know of it, not if they was to tear it from me with wild 
horses. I only thought of it yesterday, Professor, while I 
was beating the rugs, how, when Missus Babbitt comes home, 
all our fine times will be over. I’ll never forget ’em, Profes¬ 
sor {with emotion). You a-sitting there evenings a-reading, 
and a-reading, and the big tears chassaying down my cheeks. 
And then I’d dream all night I was a-acting every part of it, 
all by myself, on top of the stage. {Gesticulates violently, as 
if acting.) 

Prof, {looks up from writing, but not heeding her). If I 
could only think of a pretext to keep my wife away. Ah, I 
have it ! (Susan drops violently on her knees. Professor 
writes.) 


26 


A Night Off; or, A Page from Balzac. 


[READY Nisbe, with flowers, satchels, etc., to enter 
L. c. 

Susan (rises'). One thing is certain ; when the piece is 
acted at our theatre, I must be there. If Mrs. Babbitt won’t 
let me, I’ll run off without leave, and if she packs me off the 
next day, I’ll console myself with those beautiful lines out of 
our play: — 

“ And though thy anger have no end, 

Then break my heart; it shall not bend.” 


Prof. ( gives her a postal card). Mail this postal card at 
once. Egad, Susan, I think I’ll put on my coat, and steal 
over to the theatre, and have a look at the stage. (EXIT, 
L. d.) ' , 

Susan ( reading from the postal card). “ My darling : — 
I’m sitting all alone at my writing-table, with my solitary cup 
of tea.” O Professor! (Looks towards l.) 

During the above , Mrs. Babbitt has ENTERED , l. c., in 
travelling-costume, with satchels and hand-baggage. 

Mrs. Babbitt. Susan, what are you doing there ? 

Susan (aside). Mercy on us ! Mrs. Babbitt, I declare ! 
Mrs. B. (l.). What are you reading there ? 

Susan (hesitatingly). Only a postal card from the Profes¬ 
sor to you, ma’am. 

Mrs. B. (snatches card). And you read it ! Go help So- 
phonisba with her things. 

Susan. Yes ’em. (Aside, crossing up c.) What will the 
Professor do now ? (Aloud.) Let me help you, Miss Nisbe. 

Nisbe ENTERS, loaded up with flowers, satchels, etc., L. c. 

Nisbe (down c.). Never mind me. Where’s papa ? 
Susan. The Professor, Miss, he’s only in his room, he 
was just going to the Opera House. 

Mrs. B. To the what ? 


A Night Off; or, A Page from Balzac. 


27 


Susan (l.). Yes ’em, about the — (remembers). Oh, 
cricky! (Aloud.) For his soda water, ma’am. He goes 
there every day for his soda water. 

[Nisbe puts her things down. 

Mrs. B. Indeed! Go and help to bring up our trunks. 

Susan. Yes, ma’am. (Aside; going.) Oh, dear, our jig’s 
up now! 

Nis. (going, l.). I’ll go and tell papa we’ve come. 

Mrs. B. Stay where you are. We’ll surprise him here. 

Nis. How delighted he’ll be. Just after writing to you, 
too. What does he say, ma ? 

Mrs. B. (puts on her glasses and reads). “My darling : ” 
— Ah, he always calls me his darling. “1 am sitting alone 
at my writing-table, with my solitary cup of tea.” (Stops and 
looks at Nisbe.) 

[Nisbe looks at her mother, and then towards the 
tables, r. and l. 

“ The household sleeps. All is silence and darkness, for 
midnight has just sounded.” 

Nis. Midnight! Why, mamma, it’s only quarter to fAe 
now. 

Mrs. B. There’s something strange about this.^ (Readsi) 
“ Before me on my table stands your portrait.” 

Nis. (goes to table and finds the photo which Snap left there. 
She looks at it and starts). O papa ! (Hastily conceals ill) 

Mrs. B. What’s the matter ? 

[.READ Y Professor, to enter l. d. 

Nis. (innocently). Oh, nothing. 

Mrs. B. (reads). “ The flowers plucked by my sweet 
child are in a glass of water before me.” 

Nis. (indignant). O mamma, they’re in the waste-basket! 

\They look at each other, turn away and look round 
the room. 

Mrs. B. Nothing but falsehoods ! (Reads.) “ I long to 
see both of you again; yet, for your own dear sakes, I beg 


28 


A Night Off; or, A Page from Balzac* 


you to remain where you are for another fortnight. Be¬ 
sides, we are quite upside down at home. Susan has just 
left us ” — 

Nis. What ? 

Mrs. B. ( reads quickly). “ Poor Susan has flown to the 
assistance of her aunt in New Haven, who has been seized 
with a cerebral meningitis. I gave her leave for a week, 
and she started last night with a few things in my handbag.” 

Nis. Mamma! {Claspingher hands!) 

Mrs. B. Horrible ! {Sinks in chair!) 

Professor, l. d., is heard singing outside. 

Prof. Then to-night we’ll merry, merry be ! {ENTERS 
and sees them ; he has his hat cocked jauntily!) Heavens ! my 
wife! {IVith exaggerated kindness.) Why, my darling Zippy 
{crosses to c.), and dear little Nisbe ! — What a glorious sur¬ 
prise ! I’ve so longed for you. Just sent off a postal card 
begging you to come back as soon as possible, {A[side.) 
I’ll write another to-night. {Crosses to l.) 

Mrs. B. {rises majestically). Professor Babbitt, I have 
just read the postal card you sent. {Shows it.) 

Prof. {a fide). I’m dished. {Aloud.) Would you be¬ 

lieve, my love — 

Mrs. B. I believe nothing. But this I tell you, I’ve 
gone to the Springs for the last time. I’ll get all the white 
sulphur I want at home, and so will you. 

Prof. Now, Zippy! 

Mrs. B. Don’t touch me. {EXITS, r. d.) 

[.READY cu rta in. 

Prof. Nisbe! 

Nis. And mamma hasn’t seen the worst yet! {Shows 
him the photo!) Is that mamma’s portrait ? 

Prof. Ye gods ! Olivette! {He sinks in chair!) 

\_She holds picture before him and shakes her finger. 


CURTAIN FALLS. 


A Night Off; or, A Page from Balzac* 29 


ACT II. 

SCENE. — Reception room at Damask’s. A very handsome 
writing-table, c., with desk-chair in front, and an easy-chair 
near by at l. Sofa, R., and chair, l. Doors, r. and l. 
Window, r. c. 

TIME. — The following afternoon. 

Damask, in handsome house-jacket and cap, is dis¬ 
covered at desk, writing. He finishes, rings bell, 
folds papei'. Maria ENTERS at c.* READ I 
Jack, to enter o.from l. 

Damask ( giving her the papef. Take that to Mrs. Deda- 
live’s as quick as you can. It’s a prescription. Tell her 
she’ll find full directions inside. (Maria takes letter and 
EXITS, c. and l.) I’m afraid my wife needs a prescription 
more than anybody. She went to bed with a headache last 
night, had breakfast sent up to her this morning, kept her 
room at lunch-time, and has been speechless, to me, all the 
while. And all because I have no past. Was anything ever 
so ridiculous ! It s a bad case. I really believe I must 
have a consultation over it. 

Maria, c .from l., ENTERS with her hat and shawl on, and 
with a card on a tray. 

Maria. A gentleman called just as I was going out, sir. 
Dam. (r ., reads). “Alfred Chumley, with Snap’s Dramatic 
Combination.” ( Shakes his head.) Don’t know him. 

Mar. If you please, sir, he wrote something on the other 

side. 


30 


A Night Off; or y A Page from Balzac. 


Dam. Oh, did he ? (Turns card and reads.) “ Behind 
the unsuggestive alias of Chumley is concealed the identity 
of your old college chum — Jack Mulberry.” ( Speaks de¬ 
lightedly .) Jack Mulberry ! (To Maria.) Show him in at 
once. (She EXITS. He reads.) “ Who, remembering the 
pleasant days we spent together as students at Leipzig, asks 
your friendly aid in a matter of importance.” 

Jack ENTERS , c .from l. 

Jack (l. c.). Old fellow ! 

Dam. (r.). Jack, old boy ! Is it possible you are an actor, 
and in America ? \_Shake hands; then they embrace. 

Jack. Transformation, isn’t it ? The idle drone in the 
hive of learning turned industrious worker in the flowery 
garden of the drama. Behold me ! Leading juvenile, ec¬ 
centric comedian, light, very light tenor in comic opera, with 
Snap’s Central Park Dramatic Menagerie ! 

Dam. But, my dear boy, with your family, your prospects ! 
What brought you to it ? 

Jack. The path that leads to all folly ! (Crosses to r.) 
The thorny path of love and recklessness. You recollect, I 
was always in love. 

Dam. I remember our Hebrew professor’s daughter. 

Jack. We exchanged sighs, glances, smiles, letters, and 
vows of love for several months. 

Dam. (l.). You had got as far as that when I left the 
University. 

Jack. And I stopped there. It appears I was only tenant 
at will of her heart — subject to a month’s notice to quit. I 
was ejected. Our Greek tutor moved in with a lease for 
life ; that is, she married him. 

Dam. So far all’s well. 

Jack. Worse remains behind. I went home, completed 
my education in London with a finishing course of fast life, 


A Night Off; or, A Page from Balzac* 31 

and ended by falling at the feet of a charming little serio¬ 
comic singer at the Canterbury. 

Dam. ( impatiently ). You idle fellows are all of a piece. 
I really am not surprised now at my wife. She takes us to 
be all alike. How did you get out of this scrape ? 

Jack. I didn’t get out of it. That’s what I’m here for. 
You can help me. 

Dam. Excuse me ! ( Crosses to r.) I decline to interfere 

in these irregularities. 

Jack. My dear old Socrates, you misunderstand. The 
irregularity is all over. 

Dam. You are sure ? 

Jack. Turned over a new leaf. Spanked Cupid, and 
turned him out of my house. Closed the books, made up 
my accounts, and am ready to submit them to your inspec¬ 
tion with the proper vouchers. Will you listen ? 

Dam. Certainly. [ Both sit. 

Jack ( pulls a Russia leather pocket-book from his pocket'). 
To begin. The little queen of Canterbury was a charming 
creature. The proof of the fact is contained in Exhibit A — 
her portrait. 

Dam. {takes it). Extremely pretty. 

Jack. Eyes of heavenly blue. Tresses of raven black¬ 
ness. Exhibit B — tress of raven blackness ! {Hands over 
a small black curl , tied with pink ribbon.) 

Dam. {takes it). Well ? 

Jack. We became acquainted on a beautiful summer 
evening; and as a proof of her maidenly attachment, she 
presented me with a rose. Exhibit C — remains of rose. 
{Hands over a crushed rosebud.) 

Dam. Very appropriate. {Takes it.) 

Jack. When we pledged our undying attachment, she 
gave me, in eternal remembrance, a little ring of twisted 
gold. Exhibit D. {Takes out ring and polishes it on his 
sleeve.) Looks like gold, doesn’t it? 


32 


A Night Off; or, A Page from Balzac* 


Dam. The whole thing suggests unmitigated brass. 

Jack. So far all is mere trifling. What oppresses me 
most is Exhibit E. ( Draws from his hook a package of bills.) 
Take them. ( Turns away as he hands them over, and puts 
his hand to his eyes.) 

Dam. Unpaid ? ( Looks over the packaged) 

Jack. Mostly. They were the cause of our separation. 
The governor refused to send me any more money. It 
affected her so deeply that she wrote to me that we must 
part; that she was resolved to bury herself from the world. 
I subsequently learned that she had dyed Exhibit B ( takes 
up curl) as yellow as Exhibit D ( shows ring) and was playing 
Boccaccio in Dublin. (Rises ; crosses to r.) 

Dam. In Dublin ? That was hard. And you drove her 
to it ? [READ V Angelica, to enter r. 

Jack. You can imagine the rest. “ Remorse drove me to 
New York. I pawned my gold watch — stop a minute! 
Here’s the ticket. Exhibit F — pawn-ticket for watch. 
(Shows it, then replaces it and the rest of the articles in the 
pocket-book , which he hands to Damask.) And then I went on 
the stage. I hadn’t a particle of talent for it, of course, but 
I joined a bread-and-butter company, and go through the 
country for my board — when I can get it. (Crosses to l.) 
But now I’m sick and tired of the whole business. I wish 
to go home like the Prodigal and ask my good-hearted dad 
for pardon. So far he has sent back my letters unopened. 
But he thinks the world of you, for you were the best and 
soberest of all my college friends. So if you will only write 
to him — 

Dam. (taking his hand). Certainly. I’ll do it at once. 
I’ll send him all these documents with a strong personal 
letter, and if you will add a few lines of contrition at the 
end, you’ll be sure of forgiveness. (Puts the articles in pocket- 
book, and locks it up in his desk.) [Both rise. 

Jack. I saw by the morning paper that my governor has 


A Night Off; or, A Page from Balzac. 


33 


just arrived in New York, so we’ll set about it to-day. I’ll 
get the name of his hotel, and you can write at once to him. 

Dam. To-day. 

Angelica ENTERS at r. 

My dear, I’m delighted to see you down. Allow me — 
(introducing ) an old friend of my college days • you’ve often 
heard me speak of Jack Mulberry. 

Jack. Quite so ! Charmed, .I’m sure. 

Angelica {crosses to c., politely). An old friend of my 
husband’s, and from such a distance ! ( Gives her hand.) 

Quite interesting. ( Aside .) His chum at college. {To Dam¬ 
ask.) My love — ( with a sweet smile). 

Dam. (r.). Yes, dear. 

Ang. I left my Century on the table in my room; won’t 
you send it to mamma for me ? 

Dam. Certainly, my love. {To Jack.) See you in a few 
moments, Jack. {EXIT, r.) 

Ang. {aside). He shall give me the facts about my gentle¬ 
man’s past. {Aloud.) You must consider our house your 
own while you stay here, Mr. Mulberry My husband will 
want to talk over, old times with you. {Sits on sofa , r.) 

Jack. Oh, I shall be delighted — but — 

Ang. {not heeding). Oh, he has told me all about them. 
Such stories ! Such adventures — well, according to his 
own account, he was the wildest among you. 

Jack {aside). Harry’s been romancing to the confiding 
soul. 

Ang. I suppose he led you off now and then ? 

Jack. Well — yes ; that is, now and then. Yes, when he 
didn’t go it too strong. 

Ang. Oh, I always love to hear him tell about it. Then 
he didn’t exaggerate when he told me he was dubbed “ the 
heart-breaker.” 

Jack {aside). Heart-breaker! Poor Harry. Meek as a 


34 A Night Off; or, A Page from Balzac. 


mouse. If she’s so proud of it, I suppose I’d better humor 
the fancy. 

Ang. You don’t answer. 

Jack (l., of table). Oh, he was right. His adventures 
would fill volumes. \_READ Y Damask, to re-enter r. 

Ang. (rises; aside , in agony). Oh, heavens ! (Aloud.) 
Really ? I’m so glad. I thank you very much for your in¬ 
formation. (Gives her hand and turns away.) 

Jack (aside). Something’s wrong here. I think I’d bet¬ 
ter go before I commit Harry further. (Aloud.) If you will 
permit me — a very pressing engagement. (Gets his hat.) 

Ang. Must you ? 

Jack. I must. There’s no telling what might be the 
consequences if I didn’t. (Aside.) She looks like Cas¬ 
sandra ! (Aloud.) Say to Harry that I’ll run in again 
presently. 

Ang. (aside). He did have a past, after all! (She is look¬ 
ing away from him and intently at door , r.) 

Jack. Eh? Oh! (Aside.) The lady seems to be holding 
an animated conversation with herself. (Aloud.) Just say 
to Harry ! — Eh ? — Yes, exactly ! — Ahem ! Good-morn¬ 
ing ! (EXITS hurriedly , c. a?id l.) 

Ang. (to andfro with an outburst). It is true, then! Now 
he must confess, confess all ! 

Damask RE-ENTERS , r. 

Dam. (r.). Here’s the magazine, dear, but Maria went out 
for me and hasn’t got back yet. (Looks around.) Where’s 
Jack ? 

Ang. (sternly). Never mind Jack. 

Dam. (looks at her). What’s the matter ? Because I 
didn’t send the maga — 

Ang. Never mind the magazine. Couldn't you see it 
was a pretext to get rid of you while I questioned your 
friend about your past life ?, (Crosses to r.) 


A Night Off; or, A Page from Balzac* 


35 


, Dam. ( stares at her, and then slams the magazine down in 
a pet). Well, of all the insanities ! 

Ang. Hush, sir ! You would tell me nothing. I had to 
apply to him. 

Dam. {mildly). My dear, this is monomania. You are 
getting in a very bad way. I thought at first you were only 
joking, but now — ! ( Flings himself into chair.) 

Ang. At first I was only joking, but I thought it over and 
over last night, and this morning it has become a sad con¬ 
viction. ( Goes to him and puts her hand on his shoulder lov- 
ingly.) If you would only understand me. I am not so 
childish as to be jealous of your past. 

[He moves chair round so as to face her, and regards 
her with a puzzled look. 

But I love you too much to be satisfied with the part some 
women assume towards their husbands’ inner self. 

[He rises. 

(She places her arms around his neck.) I wish to be your 
friend, your confidante ! And it is therefore my right to 
know every secret of your heart! (Sobbing.) I — I — 
never conceal anything from you. 

Dam. (takes her hands from his neck and holds them). 
But if I haven’t any secrets ? 

Ang. (emotionally). Harry! Open your heart to me. 

Dam. I would willingly — if I could. 

Ang. O Harry, do it! [He impatiently passes her. 

I have watched you when you thought you were alone. 
Have seen you gazing into vacancy 

[He turns away his head to conceal his amusement. 
as if some dark memory oppressed you. Just as you look 
now. [He shakes with silent laughter. 

You are moved; I see, I feel it. Oh, it is impossible that 
the life of a man like you should never have been stirred by 
the upheaval of some volcanic passion. Tell me, tell me, 
— please do. (Falls on his neck.) 


36 


A Night Off; or, A Page from Balzac* 


Dam. ( turns his face to her with affected solemnity). Will 
you promise, solemnly promise, never to revert to the topic 
again, if I comply with your wish ? 

Ang. I promise solemnly. 

Dam. On that condition I will tell you — the story. 
(Crosses to l.) 

Ang. ( breathless). Yes, yes! 

Dam. (looks at her). And you will forgive me everything? 

Ang. Everything. 

Dam. Well, then ! (He goes to his desk , c., and unlocks 
his drawer. She sinks into chair near by, riveted. He takes 
out Jack’s pocket-book!) Listen. 

Ang. (aside). At last! 

Dam. (after a moment's pause, and holding the pocket-book 
in his hand). While I was a student at Leipzig, I ran on 
now and then to Paris, and plunged into the gayeties of the 
capital. I was a constant attendant at the cafe's chantants 
in the Champs-^lysees. 

Ang. (delighted). Now you see, you never told me that 
before. (Jumps up and kisses him.) Oh, you darling ! (Sits 
l. of table.) 

Dam. I made the acquaintance of one of the most dis¬ 
tinguished prima donnas of the period. Here is the picture. 
(Takes photo out of the book and hands it to her.) 

Ang. (looks at it, sets her lips firmly, stiffe?is up, sighs, 
shakes her head, and then in low tone). And you loved 
her ? 

Dam. To distraction ! She gave me a rose. This one ! 
(Hands it over. Angelica lets her hands fall in her lap-con¬ 
templatively!) And when I passionately asked her for 
greater proofs of affection, she cut off a tress of her silken 
hair. Take it ! 

Ang. (takes it; eyes it' critically, holding it up daintily). 
Well ? 

Dam. Yes, there is jnore to come. In the intoxication 


A Night Off; or, A Page from Balzac. 


37 


of my wild infatuation, I gave her a gold ring (Angelica 
starts) ; but I got it back again. Here it is. 

Ang. ( taking it). Of course you smothered her with 
presents ? 

Dam. Oh, awfully ! 

[READ Y Nisbe and Mrs. Babbitt, to enter z.from l. 

Ang. And ran madly into debt ? 

Dam. Unfortunately! Here are the bills. (Gives themi) 
Mostly unpaid. Finally I pawned my grandfather’s watch. 
Here’s the ticket. ( Gives it and rises.) And now you know 
all ! 

Ang. (rises, reflectively). And this happened (counts on 
her fingers) five years ago. Does it worry you now ? (Puts 
all the things back into pocket-book and lays book on table.) 

Dam. (sighs). It does oppress me. But gone is gone. 

Ang. (comes to him). And the sequel ? (Lays her head on 
his shoulder.) 

Dam. Haven’t you got enough ? 

Ang. What became of her ? 

Dam. Poor girl! She took the veil. (Crosses to l.) 

Ang. And her relatives ; had she nobody ? 

Dam. (puzzled, scratches his head). Oh, yes. An uncle. 

Ang. (r., steppmg back a step). He called you to account! 
He challenged you ! 

Dam. Oh, yes; he gave me no end of trouble. He was 
bloodthirsty to a degree. 

Ang. And you have borne all this in silence so long! 
Harry, I love you ! (Throws her arms about him.) I wor¬ 
ship you ! 

Nisbe ENTERS c.,from l., sees the picture, laughs and 
calls off. 

Nisbe. Mamma ! Hurry ! A picture of domestic bliss. 

Mrs. Babbitt ENTERS o,.,from l. 

Mrs. Babbitt (l.). What is it? 


38 


A Night Off; or, A Page from Balzac. 


Dam. {aside to Angelica, as she starts away). Don’t tell 
your mother a word of all this. 

Ang. Never! ( Goes to Mrs. Babbitt as Damask greets 
Nisbe.) O mamma, I’m so delighted to see you ! ( Draws 
her down and impressively , aside.) Come to my room ! I’ve 
something most important to tell you. 

Mrs. B. (same). Very well ! ( They separate.) 

Dam. (crosses to Mrs. Babbitt). Well, mamma? Was I 
not right to advise the Springs ? You look ten years younger. 

Mrs. B. (l.) You’re more of a flatterer than a physician, 
I’m afraid. I’m not at all well. 

Dam. Dear me ! (Talks with her.) 

Ang. (up r. c. to Nisbe). Keep Harry here, while I take 
mamma to my room. 

Nis. I understand. (Takes off her hat , etc.) 

Mrs. B. (crosses to l. c., up stage). Angelica, how’s your 
parrot ? 

Ang. He’s in my room. He’s learned ever so many 
words since you were here last. 

Dam. Yes; picked them up from us ! He says “kiss me, 
darling,” all day long. He got that from Angelica. 

Nis. Oh, I must hear him say that! 

Ang. (aside to her). Stay where you are ! (Aloud.) 
Come, mamma. 

Nis. (crosses to Damask). I want to hear him say “kiss 
me, darling.” 

Dam. (crosses to r. c., darting to door). I’ll fetch him. 

Ang. (takes up pocket-book from table , c.). What for ? We 
can go to him just as well. (Motions to Nisbe.) Come, 
mamma, (r., EXITS quickly , with Mrs. Babbitt.) 

Dam. We’ll all go ! [Nisbe detains him. 

Nis. O Harry ! I want to ask you something. (He 
turns at the door. She goes to him.) 

Dam. Not just yet ! (Aside.) I think I hear them going 
over Exhibit A now ! 


A Night Off; or, A Page from Balzac* 


39 


Nis. (l., linking his arm). Yes, yes. It's very important. 
Dam. Do be quick as possible, then. ( Glares off, r.) 
Nis. ( brings him down). Since our return from the 
Springs, I’ve had several strange attacks. 

Dam. Yes, yes ; all right. (Aside, looking r.) She’s tell¬ 
ing her mother everything. 

Nis. ( lets go his arm). You’re not listening ! 

Dam. Yes, I am ; go on ! 

Nis. ( extending her arm). Feel my pulse. Don’t you 
notice anything ? 

Dam. (looking off r., and grasping her thumb by mistake). 

No. 

Nis. ( draws thumb away indignantly). After I get up in 
the morning and have my breakfast — (gulps). 

Dam. Well, what then ? 

Nis. Then there’s nothing. But after breakfast I go out 
for a walk for about half an hour. 

Dam. Well, if walking for half an hour doesn’t agree 
with you, stay at home for half an hour. 

Nis. But it does agree with me. 

[READY Jack, with note, to enter c. from l. 
Dam. All right, go then. (Going.) 

Nis. (holding him back). But something strange happened 
in my walk this morning. I saw some roses — 

Dam. (aside). Roses! Exhibit C. (Aloud.) Let me go. 
I must see Angelica. 

Nis. (holds him). Near the roses stood a young man ! 
(Damask turns and looks at her.) I didn’t take any notice of 
him (gulps) ; but at the mere sight of the roses, I suddenly 
grew dizzy, my heart began to palpitate, everything grew 
black, as if I were going to faint. (Sinks into chair.) 

Dam. Faint! I’ll get you something ! (Darts off, r. d.) 
Nis. No, no ; stay here! It’s coming over me again. 
Oh ! Oh ! (Sinks in chair, pretending to faint. Short pause. 
Looks up cautiously and, finding herself alone, bounds up.) 


40 


A Night Off; or, A Page from Balzac. 


He got away after all! Well, I did the best I could for 
Angy. The heartless monster, to leave me in a fainting 
condition. [Jack coughs outside. 

(Listens.) No, he’s coming back. Now I’ll give him a 
swoon as is a swoon. (Throws herself in a chair, closes her 
eyes and groans.) Oh ! Oh! Oh ! 

Jack ENTERS c. from l., with a ?iote. 

Jack. I’ve jotted down a few more points for Harry, in 
writing his letter. (Sees Nisbe.) What’s that? A young 
lady ! Seems to be ill. 

Nis. ( her eyes still closed, ?'olls her head languidly). Oh! 
Oh! 

Jack (looks around). If I could find the cologne. (Sees 
an atomizer on the table.) Here’s something. (Takes it up 
and squeezes the cologne over her face.) 

Nis. (groans feebly, zvith her eyes still closed.) Oh, how re¬ 
freshing ! Do it some more. 

Jack (aside). By Jove ! she’s pretty. (Repeats bus.) 

Nis. (same). Bathe my forehead. 

Jack (r., looks around). Where is the water? (Notfind¬ 
ing it, resumes the atomizeri) 

Nis. That’s it. Now a little back of my ear! 

[Jack obeys. 

Oh, how reviving ! 

Jack (aloud, suddenly). Do you feel better now ? 

Nis. (opens her eyes suddenly, then starts up). A stranger! 
Heavens! 

Jack. Pardon me, if I startled you; but I thought it my 
duty to come to your assistance. 

Nis. I’m so much obliged! But I—'I — I thought it 
was my brother-in-law. 

Jack. I am too happy in having arrived at the right 
moment, especially as my medical knowledge — (uncon¬ 
sciously squeezes the atomizer, and gets the cologne in his eyes). 


A Night Off; or, A Page from Balzac* 


41 


Nis. (l.). Are you a doctor, too ? 

Jack. Not exactly. But I studied medicine for one term 
with my friend Harry. My name is Jack Mulberry. 

Nis. Dr. Damask is my brother-in-law. 

Jack. Then I have the pleasure of addressing the Pro¬ 
fessor’s daughter. 

Nis. {quickly). Yes; but don’t tell papa of my fainting, 
please. 

Jack. I wouldn’t dream of it for the world. Besides, I 
perceived at once you were merely practising a little decep¬ 
tion on somebody. 

Nis. {severely). Practising a deception? 

Jack. Of course. You recovered too suddenly. 

Nis. Allow me — it was very serious. I have these at¬ 
tacks repeatedly. {Crosses to r.) 

Jack {aside). The little fibber! 

Nis. If you understand anything about medicine, you 
must perceive that I have a fever. Be kind enough to feel 
my pulse. {She holds out her hand ’, the thumb uppermost. 
As Jack advances to feel her pulse , she turns her thumb down.) 

Jack. Certainly, a very strong fever! {Aside.) Not a 
trace. 

Nis. {triumphantly). There now ! 

Jack. I offer my humblest apologies. I begin to see 
your case clearly. Before these attacks come on you have a 
buzzing in your ears ? [She nods. 

A mist comes over your eyes? [She nods. 

Hammering in your head ? [Same bus. 

Twitching sensation in your hands ? [Same bus. 

One foot cold as ice, the other burning hot ? 

Nis. (r.). Yes, yes. What do you advise? 

Jack. You wish to know ? 

Nis. Yes ; I’m prepared for anything. 

Jack. Well, then, I advise you to invent some other 
illness. 


42 


A Night Off; or, A Page from Balzac. 


Nis. ( indignantly). What ? 

Jack. Or devote more care to the statement of your 
symptoms. 

Nis. Do you mean to — 

Jack. I mean to say that the condition you described 
never existed, except in the imagination. 

Nis. You should have taken another course of lessons, 
Doctor. ( Crosses to, l.) You never got as far as my com¬ 
plaint. ( Very sarcastically .) 

Jack ( cheerfully ). Possibly, possibly. And I never re¬ 
gretted so much as now that I rejected science to go on the 
stage. 

Nis. Are you an actor? 

Jack. Well, some people think I’m not. Fact is, I 
merely imagined I could be one. Having discovered my 
mistake, I give it up cheerfully. My last appearance will be 
as Cassius, a young Roman, in your father’s tragedy. 

Nis. Father’s tragedy ! Papa has written a tragedy? 

Jack (aside). She doesn’t know it. How awkward of me! 

Nis. And it’s going to be produced ? 

Jack. I ought not to have mentioned it. 

Nis. Oh, yes, you ought, and you must tell me all about 
it. I’m burning to know. 

Jack. No, no ! We are pledged to secrecy, and it slipped 
out. (. Matters to himself, aside.) 

Nis. (aside). More mystery about papa. That accounts 
for the portrait and the soda water at the Opera House. 

Jack. Now I think of it, the piece is not by your father, 
but by some other professor’s daughter’s father. I got the 
names confused. 

Nis. (aside). I do believe he can'fib like a girl. We’ll see. 
(Aloud.) Oh, yes ; I know what you mean now. It’s that old 
tragedy they found in the college library. (Eyes him keenly .) 

Jack. Oh, yes; found in an old chest in the cellar. Yes, 
that’s the very one. 


A Night Off; or, A Page from Balzac. 


43 


Nis. The plot is all about the persecutions of the early 
Christians, under Numa Pompilius. 

{READ Y Professor, to enter c.from l. 

Jack. You’ve got it; I play Cassius. I’m an early Chris¬ 
tian ; they persecute me. But don’t tell your papa. Promise 
me. 

Nis. No, I won’t. But you must promise me something, 
too. 

Jack. With pleasure. What? 

Nis. Invent some other plot for your next tragedy. 

Jack. What ? 

Nis. Or pay more attention to your historical dates. Just 
imagine ! Persecutions of the Christians under Numa Pom¬ 
pilius ! Why he died seven hundred years before the Chris¬ 
tian Era ! ( Crosses to r.) 

Jack. Horrible ! I forgot I was talking to a professor’s 
daughter. I apologize again. Seems to me, I’m always apol¬ 
ogizing. 

Nis. Don’t worry. We’re quits now for my fainting spell. 

Jack. And I’m forgiven? 

Nis. Fully. 

Jack. Oh, thanks ! {He is about to take her hand when ) 
The Professor ENTERS, c. from l. 

The author of her being and of the play! 

Professor {aside). Our leading juvenile ! {Atoud.) What 
are you doing here ? 

Jack. I — I — have a letter for Dr. Damask. 

Prof. Indeed ! (. Suspiciously .) I wonder if these fellows 

make love off the stage as well as they do on it ? 

Nis. (r. with co?nposure). My brother-in-law is in the next 
room. 

Jack. Is he? Well, then, I’ll take my leave. {Bows, 
going, aside.) She’s lovely and she’s clever! My first en¬ 
counter with one of the institutions of the country — an 


44 A Night Off; or, A Page from Balzac. 

American girl! I hope I’ll see more of it. (. EXITS, c. 
and l.) 

Nis. (r., brings Professor down). Papa, I think it’s very 
unfair to have secrets from me ! 

Prof. What secrets ? 

Nis. You know I always stand by you. 

Prof, {softens). Well, then ? 

Nis. (; mysteriously ). I know all! You have written a 
tragedy. 

Prof. For goodness’ sake, not so loud. ( Crosses to r.) If 
your mother should hear ! ( Piteously .) Only think, she hasn’t 
spoken a kind word to me since she got back from the Springs. 

Nis. (solemnly). How did we find you when wc did get 
back ? 

Prof. Has she spoken to you about it ? 

Nis. Not a syllable. 

Prof. She’s a dreadfully uncomfortable woman. She 
keeps things for days, leaves you in an awful state of appre¬ 
hension, and then springs at you when you least expect it. 
Do me one favor. Don’t leave me alone with her any more 
than you possibly can. 

[READY Mrs. Babbitt, with pocket-book, etc., to 
enter r. d. 

Nis. (in thought). Papa, is Cassius a nice part ? 

Prof. Cassius ? Oh! (Brightening.) Of course he is. 
He’s the hero. Has a magnificent love scene in the second 
act. Stabs himself in the third. 

Nis. Doesn’t he come in after the third act? 

Prof. How can he, after stabbing himself? ( Crosses 
to L.) 

Nis. (r.). I think the interest will flag then. It’s a great 
pity. 

Prof. No, it won’t. (Rubs his handsl) I saw the rehearsal 
this morning. 

Nis. How did you like it ? 


A Night Off; or, A Page from Balzac* 45 

Prof. I don’t know. I was so excited, it seemed like a 
dream. 

Nis. Aren’t you awfully nervous ? 

Prof. I didn’t sleep a wink last night. 

Nis. Tell me, papa, whom does Cassius make love to? 

Mrs. Babbitt ENTERS, r. d., carrying the pocket-book and 
bills in her hand. The Professor avoids her. 

Prof. Sh ! Here’s your mother. 

Mrs. B. Nisbe ! ( Icy tones as she sees the Professor.) 

Oh ! you’re there ? 

Prof. ( crosses, yet avoiding her eye). Yes, my love ; you see 
I couldn’t deny myself the pleasure of calling for you. 

Mrs. B. Indeed ! Nisbe, go to your sister. She wants 
you. 

Nis. (crosses to the Professor, who has gesticulated vio¬ 
lently — pantomiming her to stay). O mamma, just as I was 
having such a nice talk with papa, whom I haven’t seen for so 
long ! 

Prof. No, we haven't seen each other for so long. 
(Continues his motions .) 

Mrs. B. (l., to Nisbe icily). I wish to speak with your 
father alone ! {Sits l.) 

Prof. That settles it. {Sinks into chair r. of table.) 
Now for it! 

Nis. {aside). Poor papa! ( Going , and aside to him.) 

Cheer up ! {EXITS, r. d.) 

Prof, {aside, as Mrs. Babbitt turns on him). The jug¬ 
gernaut approaches. 

Mrs. B. (l.). You are aware, Mr. Babbitt, that you owe 
me some explanations ? 

Prof, (rises, confidently , clearing his throat). I’m quite 
ready, my dear. 

Mrs. B. {repressing him by an imperious wave of the hand). 
You are quite ready with a tissue of inventions, no doubt. 


46 


A Night Off; or, A Page from Balzac. 


Prof. Now, my darling — 

Mrs. B. I spare you the trouble. There is something, 
unfortunately, of graver importance. I must have at least 
five hundred dollars. 

Prof. Five hundred dollars ! {Aghast.) 

Mrs. B. At once. 

Prof. Will you please explain ? 

Mrs. B. No. I forego explanations from you, and re¬ 
serve all on my own part. Get me the money; the matter 
admits of no delay. ( Crosses to r.) 

Prof. But where am I to get it ? 

Mrs. B. Take it out of Nisbe's money. 

Prof. {aside\ And I’ve just borrowed from Nisbe’s 
money to meet some expenses at the — 

[.READ Y Angelica and Damask, to enter r. 

Mrs. B. What are you saying ? 

Prof. (l.). You wouldn’t have me touch the child’s 
pittance ? 

Mrs. B. We can save up and replace it in a year. Give 
me the key of the safe. 

Prof, {aside). She’ll find I’ve been there already. 

Mrs. B. Well! 

Prof. The fact is, my darling, I’ve just had to call in 
her investment, and happen to have the money with me. I 
just got it from the bank. {Fumbles in his pocketl) 

Mrs. B. All the better. {Holds out her hand.) 

Prof. (takes out pocket-book and produces a single bank-bill ). 
My beautiful fresh greenback ! {Hands it.) 

Mrs. B. {snatching it). Five hundred dollars all in one 
bill! {Examines it.) 

Prof. Yes. You nearly made it in two. That’s how 
it goes so easily. {Aside.) My last cent, and to-morrow the 
first of the month. 

Angelica and Damask ENTER, r. He is sulky and keeps 
his hands in his pockets, She is clinging to one arm sweetly . 


A Night Off; or, A Page from Balzac* 


47 


Ang. ( aside to Damask as they enter). Will you see that 
my telling her was all for the best ? 

Dam. (l. c.). Good-morning, Professor! ( Struck by his 

dejected air.) You don’t look well. Anything the matter? 

[Professor stretches out his hand gloomily to shake. 
Damask takes hold of his pulse and pulls out his 
watch to count. Professor snatches his hand 
away. Damask shrugs his shoulders and they 
separate. 

Mrs. B. ( draws Angelica down front and gives her the 
bank-note and the pocket-book cautiously). There are five hun¬ 
dred dollars to pay your husband’s sinful debts. 

Ang. (gushingly). O mamma ! 

Mrs. B. No thanks. Thank goodness, I had it. 

Ang. O mamma, how good you are ! (Tries to embrace 
her.) 

Mrs. B. (draws back). Hush ! (Crosses to Professor.) 
Are you going to be at home this evening, Mr. Babbitt ? 

Prof. ( injured tofie and look). Do I ever go out ? 

Mrs. B. Yes — for soda water. 

\_He retires up stage. She follows him. 

Ang. (r. Beckons Damask down to her. Gives him the 
pOcket-book and the bank-bill). Now you see how much better 
it was to confess everything to me. There are five hundred 
dollars ! Pay those dreadful debts and close the transac¬ 
tion forever! 

Dam. (surprised and amused). What? five hun — 

Ang. (cautiously). Hush ! It’s a little torn, but — 

Dam. You are an angel! (Tries to embrace her.) 

[,She draws back , her fingers to her lips , and joins her 
mother. They hurry ojj R., in animated conver¬ 
sation. 

Ang. Come, mamma! Nisbe’s waiting. (EXIT with 
Mrs. Babbitt, r. d.) 

Dam. (looks at bank-note): Providence takes care of its 


48 A Night Off; or, A Page from Balzac. 

own ! ( Pockets money, and locks pocket-book in drawer.) If it 

pays as well as this, I’ll tell her a few more anecdotes of my 
past life. ( Sits r. of table.) 

Prof, (who has walked the stage dolefully, stops and eyes 
Damask). Shall I try and raise the money from my son-in- 
law? He never seems to have any surplus change, but here 
goes. (Comes down.) Will you have a cigar, Harry ? I just 
bought some. (Takes a paper parcel from his pocket, unwraps 
it, and produces two cigars.) 

Dam. The poor old gentleman's favorite — Key Wests! 
I couldn’t rob you, sir ; smoke one with me. (Offers cigars 
from easel) 

Prof. I dare say yours are the best. ( Wraps his own up 
again, and pockets them. Takes a cigar from Damask, atid gets 
a match from his pocket as Damask takes out his match-case.) 
No, no; I’ll furnish the matches. Fair play, you know. 

[They light. Professor holding the match, burns his 
fingers. He eyes Damask. 

Dam. You don’t smoke ! 

[.READ Y Snap, to enter c. from l. 

Prof. The fact is, Harry, I’m in a little trouble. I want 
to ask a favor of you. 

Dam. Certainly, sir; what is it? 

Prof. Could you help me out with a little money for a 
few months ? 

Dam. (smoking). With pleasure. 

Prof, (delighted). Really ? 

Dam. (feeling in his pocket). How much ? 

Prof. It’s a very large sum. 

Dam. Don’t hesitate to name it. Anything in reason. 
(Stage, r.) 

Prof, (gasping). Five — hundred — dollars ! 

Dam, (coolly). Mere trifle. (Turns half away, unfolds bank¬ 
note, while the Professor looks on excitedly.) Here you are. 

Prof. Harry, you’re a noble fellow. 


A Night Off; or, A Page from Balzac* 


49 


Dam. You don’t mind its being in one bill, I suppose ? 
(Hands it over.') 

Prof, (crosses to r.). One bill! {Opens it. Aside.) My 
bill! He swindled it out of my wife, the young robber. 
{Pockets it.) Well, he’ll never get that back again. 

Snap ENTERS, hurriedly, at back. Sees the Professor, and 
comes forward. 

Snap. Thank goodness, I’ve found you at last! I’ve 
come straight from your house. {Puts down his hat and pro¬ 
duces MSS. of the play.) 

Prof, (r., alarmed). What do you want here ? Go away! 
{Points vigorously to Damask.) 

Dam. {smoking). Ah, Snap ! (To Professor.) I hope 
you're not to back up Snap with my five hundred. 

Snap {smiling to Damask). How d’ye do, sir ? {To Pro¬ 
fessor.) Oh, I made the doctor’s acquaintance this morn¬ 
ing. He took two seats for the opening. {Crossing to c., 
inquiringly, half aside.) Does he know ? 

Prof, {important). No, he does not. 

Dam. (l.). But he’d be glad to. What is it? 

[Snap puts his finger beside his nose. 

Prof, {crosses to c. To Damask, hurriedly). I rely on your 
discretion. He comes about my play — my tragedy; it’s go¬ 
ing to be played — in the strictest confidence. 

Dam. By Jove! Good! I admire your pluck, dad-in-law. 

Prof, {to Snap). Now, what is it? You had no business 
to come here. My wife may be in at any moment. 

Snap. Oh, if we’re caught, we can pass it off with a little 
presence of mind. Say that I’m an old friend of yours, or a 
stranger visiting the university. 

Dam. I think, on the whole, we’d better not rely on our 
presence of mind. Your absence of body would be better. 

Prof, {nervously). But what do you want ? 

Snap (recalled to business). Oh, just so! {Opens the 


50 A Night Off; or, A Page from Balzac, 

MSS.) It’s about the part of Tullia, the female slave, you 
know. We haven’t a soul to play it. 

Prof. (r.). No one to play Tullia ! Why, she’s one of 
the principal parts of the piece. She gives it its name. 
She’s the Beautiful Sabine ! What’s to be done ? 

Snap. I’ve talked it over with my wife. That woman is 
invaluable for expedients. You couldn’t corner that woman 
if you were Shakespeare himself. She found a way out of 
the difficulty immediately. Instead of Tullia, a female slave, 
we make it Tullius, a male slave, and there you are. 

Prof. It’s impossible ! {Crosses to c.) I can’t make her 
a male slave. Remember her soliloquy in the first act: “ Ah, 
that I were a — that I were a — man ! ” You can’t have a man 
speak that. 

Snap (r puzzled). True ! The subtle significance of the 
aspiration would be lost. 

Prof. Well, then — ? 

Snap. Well, then, if we can’t make her a man, and we 
haven’t got a woman, there’s only one thing left. We make 
it a child — see ? “ Oh, that I were — that I were a — 

man ! ” which he isn’t, and there you are. 

Prof. A child! No, I won’t submit to have the part cut 
down like that. 

Snap. It’ll add to the piece immensely. My youngest boy, 
Tom, will take the part, and make it the hit of the perform¬ 
ance. 

Prof. You really think it would do ? 

Snap. I should say so. That child of mine is a born gen¬ 
ius. Just go over the lines, won’t you, and cut out the long 
words. I’ve brought the book. 

Prof. You want me to alter all the part on the spot? 

Snap. Must. We rehearse again to-night. 

Prof. Then come with me. Harry, keep everybody out 
of this room. (. EXITS , l. d., with MSS.) 

Snap. Very good, Professor. (Sees him off and returns.) 


A Night Off; or, A Page from Balzac* 51 

By the way, Doctor, my wife’s heard about your wife’s parrot, 
and she’s dying to bring it on in “The Beautiful Sabine.” 

Dam. (l.). Is there a parrot in the play? 

Snap. No, no ; but the second act is set in a grove of 
pines, and she thought it would look realistic to have the 
parrot discovered on one of the pine-trees. Bit of realism 
— see ? These things take immensely. 

Dam. Have you got a pine-tree ? 

Snap. Not exactly a pine-tree, but my wife has hit on a 
capital substitute. She saw an orange plant in a tub at the 
drug store, and got the loan of it for the run of the play. 
We give the druggist a line on the bills for its use. Just 
fancy, a live parrot on a real orange-tree. The audience 
would be transported to Rome in an instant. 

Dam. Why, old man, you’re going to make a regular 
spectacle of it. How about your costumes ? Got a full 
Roman wardrobe ? 

Snap. I should say so. My wife made ’em all for the 
“ La Belle Helene.” ( Crosses to l., stops a?id rubs his ear.) 
There was a hitch though at one time. We hadn’t anything 
for the Sabine warriors to wear. 

Dam. And how did you manage ? 

Snap. My wife did it. When we went to sleep last 
night, there were all the Sabine warriors before our minds’ 
eye without a rag on. In the middle of the night, just as 
I was dreaming of the hundredth performance of the piece, 
she gave a scream that nearly threw me out of bed. “ I 
have it! ” she cried; and she had. We are going to have a 
company of firemen for the Sabine army, you know. Well, 
we make them wear their red shirts outside, with tights, and 
there you are. 

[READY Mrs. Babbitt, to RE-ENTER r. d. 

Dam. ( throws himself into chair , laughing). Ha ! ha ! ha ! 
The Sabine army in red shirts ! 

Snap. I believe the effect will be striking. 


52 


A Night Off; or, A Page from Balzac* 


Dam. It will be. I wouldn’t miss it for the world. 
Snap, you are the prince of barn-stormers. ( Crosses to L.) 

Snap. Barn-stormers ! Who were the first actors ? Barn¬ 
stormers. Who was Roscius ? A barn-stormer ! Or Gar¬ 
rick— or Kean? Barn-stormers! Perhaps I don’t always 
pay my salaries, and can't always take my trunks away — 
but all the more glory for getting on in spite of it. Where’s 
your school for genius ? We have it! Who in his time 
plays many parts? We do ! Barn-stormers, indeed ! Barn¬ 
stormers ! ! (. EXITS , in high indignation , after the Pro¬ 
fessor.) 

Dam. Bravo, Snap! I like a man to stand up for his 
trade. 

Mrs. Babbitt RE-ENTERS , r. d. 

Mrs. B. You seem in remarkably good spiiits. (Dam¬ 
ask instantly becomes grave. She looks around .) I thought 
I heard high words. 

Dam. You didn’t expect to hear low language, I hope. 

Mrs. B. This is no time for trifling, Henry. My daugh- 
ter has told me everything. 

Dam. In spite of my express injunctions ! 

Mrs. B. It was her duty, as my child. ^ 

Dam. And what was her duty, as my wife ? 

Mrs. B. How can you talk of duty after the revelations 
you have made ? 

Dam. (aside). I’m afraid we’ve made a nice mess, after 
all. 

Mrs. B. You perceive that I do not use violent re¬ 
proaches. I will even shield you. Angelica’s father shall 
know nothing. 

Dam. That being the case, let’s say no more about it. 

Mrs. B. It’s a subject that will not bear discussion; I 
shall simply act. (He looks at her.) I will take the settle¬ 
ment of this affair into my own hands. 


A Night Off; or, A Page from Balzac* 53 


Dam. I don’t quite comprehend. 

Mrs. B. I doubt if there is another mother-in-law who 
would act with so much dignity and tact. 

Dam. (r.). No ; it’s remarkable. 

Mrs. B. (l.). I only require from you the whole truth. 
First of all, about that unfortunate girl. Is everything over 
between you ? 

Dam. {solemnly). Forever ! 

Mrs. B. That is satisfactory as far as it goes. Next, as 
to those shameful debts. You must pay them instantly. 
Has Angelica given you the money ? 

Dam. Yes ; but it’s gone. 

Mrs. B. ( excitedly ). Gone ! 

Dam. ( correcting himself). I mean gone by mail. I paid 
the bills on the spot. 

Mrs. B. Oh ! I’m glad you have had that sense of 
honor. And now to the most important point. 

Dam. Is there another point ? 

Mrs. B. ( intently , leaning forward). The uncle! 

Dam. What uncle ? 

Mrs. B. The uncle who called you to account for the fate 
of his niece. 

Dam. Oh ! Oh, he’s all right. He’ll cool down. (Aside.) 
What a mess of rubbish I made up. 

Mrs. B. I cannot believe it. My child’s happiness is at 
stake, and that man must be conciliated. 

Dam. But, my dear Mrs. Babbitt, — 

Mrs. B. Don’t try to put me off. My resolve is taken. 
I must communicate with that man, and entreat his par¬ 
don, for the sake of my innocent daughter whom you have 
married. 

Dam. (l.). It’s not at all necessary. I beg you won’t feel 
the slightest uneasiness. 

Mrs. B. (shaking her head obdurately). I shall write him 
this very night. Give me his address. 


54 


A Night Off; or, A Page from Balzac. 


Dam. (l., aside). Here’s a pretty kettle of fish ! ( Aloud .) 
I cannot give you his address. 

Mrs. B. Why not? 

Dam. I don’t know it. 

Mrs. B. His last address. 

Dam. He’s changed it. He skips about from place to 
place. 

Mrs. B. He is searching for you. 

Dam. What nonsense ! I assure you, he’s quite satisfied. 
As long as the bills are paid, he’ll let up. 

Mrs. B. How will he know that the bills are paid ? 

Dam. {aside). O Lord ! (. Aloud. ) I shall tell him. 

Mrs. B. You don’t know his address. 

Dam. I didn’t say I would write to him. I said I would 
tell him. 

Mrs. B. You know where to find him ? 

Dam. ( exhausted ). No. {Savagely .) The fact is, I have 
told him. 

[READY Snap, with MSS., and Professor, to 
enter l. 

Mrs. B. {alarmed). He has been here ? 

Dam. Quite casually. Travelling to see the university. 
( Crosses to R.) 

Mrs. B. (l.). I have a dreadful apprehension! Those 
high words I heard just before I entered — 

Dam. No, no ! We parted on the best of terms. 

Mrs. B. You assure me sacredly that you are reconciled? 

Dam. Sacredly. 

Mrs. B. {hand to her heart). Oh, what a relief! Go in¬ 
stantly and reassure your wife. You don’t know in what a 
state I left her. {Sinks into chair.) 

Dam. {angrily). I can imagine. {Aside, going.) Meddling 
old — ! Confound it! it’s my own fault. I’ll never play 
another joke as long as I live. {EXITS, r., in temper.) 

Mrs. B. {looks after him). I believe he is truly repen- 


A Night Off; or, A Page from Balzac* 


55 


tant. ( Goes to door, r., and listens .) If he is only kind to 
Angelica. 

Snap RE-ENTERS, l., with MSS., followed by the Profes¬ 
sor, rubbing his hands. He perceives Mrs. Babbitt in- 
stantly. 

Prof. My wife ! Great Scott! ( Rims off, l.) 

Snap. His wife I ( Tries to steal towards door, c.) 

Mrs. B. (r., rises, turns and sees him). A stranger ! 

\_He stops awkwardly. 

Who are you ? What are you doing ? 

Snap. Nothing, nothing in particular, my dear madam ! 
Mrs. Babbitt, I believe ? 

Mrs. B. (r.). Are you looking for my husband ? 

Snap. No, no. Not at all. 

Mrs. B. Or the doctor ? Shall I call him ? 

Snap. Pray don’t. I don’t want the doctor. I’m quite 
well, thank goodness ! I’ve had enough of the doctor. 

Mrs. B. {alarmed). You — you have seen my son-in-law, 
then ? 

Snap. Yes; it’s all right. I bear no malice. {Aside.) 
Barn-stormers, indeed! 

Mrs. B. {aside and in alarm). No malice ! Good heavens ! 
can it be the uncle ? {Aloud.) You — you are a stranger? 

Snap {quickly). Yes, a traveller! Stopped over to see the 
— university. 

Mrs. B. {aside). It is he ! 

Snap {trying to escape). I wish you good-morning. 

Mrs. B. Stop ! (. Breathlessly.) Concealment is useless. 

I know your business here. Before you go you and I must 
have an explanation. 

Snap {aside). She wants to get the play back. {Puts 
MSS. in his breast pocket and buttons up.) Not if I know it. 
Mrs. B. {approaching with sympathy). I know all. 

Snap {defiantly). Well, if you know all, you know that 


56 A Night Off; or, A Page from Bateac* 

things have gone too far to have any fooling now. ( Crosses 
to R.) 

Mrs. B. ( draws him gently forward). No one — no one 
sympathizes with your poor niece more than I do. 

Snap (r.). Niece! I have no niece. 

Mrs. B. No ; because you heartlessly cast her off. 

Snap. ’Gad, it’s a regular play. ( Strikes an attitudel) Ay, 
I cast her off. What then ? (Aside.) I’ll let her play it out. 
(Folds his arms and gazes at her.) 

Mrs. B. And you have come to seek satisfaction from my 
son-in-law. 

Snap. Eh ? Oh, have I ? (Aside.) And I’ll get it, too. 
Barn-stormers ! Ha ! ha ! (Aloud.) What would you ? 
(Strikes a gloomy attitude.) 

Mrs. B. He has wronged you. 

Snap (natw'ally). In my tendere'st point. 

Mrs. B. Oh, how you must have suffered when the con¬ 
vent gates closed upon that broken-hearted child! 

Snap (prete?ids to be shaken with emotion , and aside , turning 
from her). It’s a regular Seaside Library dramatized ! She’s 
given me the cue, though. That young villain, to deceive a 
broken-hearted girl! I’ll pile some more on him. (Aloud 
and a la Iago.) You don’t know all ! Have you courage ? 

\READ Y Damask and Angelica, to e7iter r. 

Mrs. B. (firmly). I am his mother-in-law. 

Snap. The niece was not his only victim ! 

Mrs. B. Great heavens ! ( With intense curiosity .) Go 

on! 

Snap (crosses to c.). Poor, poor Camille ! (Handkerchief 
to eyes.) 

Mrs. B. I shudder at your words. 

Snap. One day the old man came home — the girl’s 
father, I mean. He came home to — to dinner. (Mrs. 
Babbitt drops into chair.) It was too late! They had 
flown, leaving a note upon his empty plate. 


A Night Off; or, A Page from Balzac* 57 


Mrs. B. And the end, the end ? 

Snap. For years that wronged father pursued the search 
for his only Camille. At length he found his child in 
wretched lodgings, abandoned to the care of pampered me¬ 
nials. The ruffian had deserted her. His paltry reason, 
her want of grammar. (Stage, L.) 

Mrs. B. (rises). The upstart! It is just like him. 
Damask RE-ENTERS with Angelica, r. 

So, sir! 

Snap. The deuce ! ( Tries to bolt. Mrs. Babbitt holds him .) 
Dam. By Jove ! (Tries to push Angelica off again.) 
This is no place for you. 

Mrs. B. Stay where you are. I have had an interview 
with the uncle. He has told me all. 

Dam. What, Snap ? (Aside.) How clever of him to 
take the part at a moment’s notice ! (Crosses to him; aloud.) 
My dear sir ! (Aside.) I owe you more than I can pay. 
Snap (aside, l.). I’m afraid you do. 

Mrs. B. (r. c.). So, sir — there was another victim ! 

Ang. Mamma ! (Coming forward .) Another victim ! 
Dam. Another vie— ! (Drops Snap’s hand.) 

Mrs. B. He has revealed to me the full measure of your 
wickedness. 

Ang. O Henry ! 

Mrs. B. What have you done with Camille ? 

[READ Y curtain. 

Ang. (shrieks). Camille! (Crosses to r. c.) 

Dam. Cam —! (To Snap.) You—! 

Ang. Mother! Camille! (Screams.) 

[Damask rushes to catch Angelica. 
Mrs. B. (interposes and waves him off). Monster ! 

[Damask now makes a dart after Snap, who has 
stood above , laughing. The latter rushes for door, 
as the 


CURTAIN FALLS. 


58 


A Night Off; or, A Page from Balzac* 


ACT III. 

SCENE. — Same as Act I. It is night; the lamps on the 
tables, r. and l., are lighted. A fire is burning in the 
grate. 

As the curtain rises the music of a brass band is 
heard playing such an air as they perform outside 
of country shows. Nisbe is discovered seated at the 
fireplace. She holds a copy of u Life” in her hand, 
as if she had been reading . . She jumps up as the 
music continues, and looks out of the window. 
READY Professor, to enter l. 

Nisbe (after music has played a few minutes?), I can see 
the lights at the theatre, and the band is playing to attract 
the people. (Turning away from the window .) Oh, if I 
could only go ! But mamma knows nothing about our play, 
and wouldn’t let me go if she did. (Throws herself in seat 
by table, c.) How will papa ever pass the evening ? Here’s 
his comic paper, and there’s his easy-chair by the fire. (Puts 
paper on table, c.) But he won’t rest content; I know he 
won’t. (Sits.) 

The Professor ENTERS nervously from l., in old-fashioned 
full-dress suit, much too large. Looks out and then 
comes down shivering. 

Professor. Is that you, Nisbe ? 

Nis. Papa, do try and compose yourself. You are wan¬ 
dering up and down stairs so often that you will surely be 
suspected. 


A Night Off; or, A Page from Balzac. 


59 


Prof. I can’t compose myself. 

Nis. Sit by the fire and read. (Fixes chair for him up 
c.) Here’s Life; it’s very funny this week. (Offers paperP) 
I laughed over it ever so much. 

Prof, (rejectspaper). I don’t feel funny to-night. I feel 
like Guy Fawkes with his gunpowder, waiting for the clock 
to strike. (Runs to window.) I think I see the people go¬ 
ing to the theatre. 

Nis. (running -to look , peepmg over his shoulder). Oh, it 
can’t be ! It wants a full hour before they begin. 

Prof, (looks at his watch , coming down , crosses to r.). So 
it does. The minutes drag like hours. 

Nis. (takes his arm and leans her head oti his shoulder). O 
papa, if I could only go! 

Prof. (r.). Do be sensible, child. It’s no use. You 
know what your mother is. It’s hard enough for me to 
steal off. 

Nis. (l., surprised). Do you think of going ? 

[READ V Susan, to enter l. c. 

Prof, (testily). Of course. I must. Harry and I have 
made up a plan. 

Nis. (pouting). Harry, too ! I think your plan might 
take me in. 

Prof. It can’t. You see, we pretend that we’ve been 
asked to a whist party at the President’s — nobody but men. 
Don’t you let on. 

Nis. (nods, and then squeezes close to his arm). I won’t. 
Will the performance be very good, papa ? 

Prof. I don’t know. I ran away from rehearsal to-day 
in misery. I never saw anything so bad. But Snap says it 
will be all right at night. 

Nis. (l.). Of course it will, if he says so. Tell me all 
about the characters. Will Cassius be nice ? 

Prof. Oh, that’s Mr. Chumley. He seems to be the 
best of the lot. 


60 A Night Off; or, A Page from Balzac* 

Nis. I knew from the first he’d be good. There’s some¬ 
thing so superior about him ; don’t you think so ? I declare, 
I could cry at not going. ( Crosses to R.) 

Susan ENTERS , l. c., and calls in a whisper. 

Susan. Professor! Professor! 

Prof, {in whisper). What is it ? 

Susan (same, coming down). The manager is here, and 
must see you. 

Prof, (alarmed). What can he want? (2o Nisbe.) 
Where’s your mother ? 

Nis. (points r.). In there with Harry and Angy. 

[.READY Snap and Jack, to enter l. c. 

Prof. Peep through the keyhole, and see if she stirs. 

[Nisbe runs up to r. d., and obeys. 
(To Susan.) Where have you got him ? 

Susan. In the vestibule. A young gentleman is with 
him. That Mr. Chumley. 

Nis. (looking up). Cassius ? Oh, let ’em come up, papa. 
Let Cassius come up. 

Prof, (to Nisbe). Sh ! (To Susan.) Bring them in, but 
don’t make a noise. 

Susan (creeping out on tip-toe). All right, Professor! 
(EXITS, l. c.) 

Nis. (coming down). You needn’t be afraid, papa. Harry 
is reading out loud, and mamma and Angy are sewing. 

Prof, (l., relieved). Very well. Now you go and keep 
them in there until I come. 

Nis. (pouts). But I want to stay. 

Prof. Go, I tell you. (Goes to l. c., softly.) 

Nis. Just as he is here! But I’ll find some excuse for 
coming back. (lakes a bunch of keys out of her pocket, and 
after assuring herself that her father is not looking, she lays 
the?n on the mantell) 


A Night Off; or> A Page from Balzac* 6i 


Susan shows in Snap, l. c., in long ulster , and Jack. Jack 
bows very politely to Nisbe, who returns it and EXITS 
delightedly , at r. Susan EXITS , l. c. 

Prof, (r., in low tone at first, a?id then naturally ). Now 
what is it ? What’s gone wrong ? Will you have to post¬ 
pone it ? 

Snap. Postpone it! What an idea ! Why, the house is 
sold out. It’s the biggest thing I ever did. 

Prof. If it were only over ! I feel a cold chill through 
and through. 

Jack (l.). Of course you do, my dear sir. But wait till 
we end in a burst of glory. That’ll warm you. 

Prof. ( crosses to c., shakes his hand). Do you think so ? 
(To Snap.) But what are you doing here? You’ll be late. 
You come on in the first act. 

Snap. Don’t fret about me. I’ll dress for King Titus 
Tatius in five minutes. 

Prof. Then, what is it? What do you want ? 

Snap ( scratches his head, embarrassed ). Well, the fact is, 
Professor, it’s about the part of that confounded female 
slave. 

Prof. My beautiful Sabine! Why, I altered it for your 
boy. 

Snap. Yes, but my wife has just remembered that every¬ 
body’s on the stage in Tullia’s scene, and we want him to do 
the tumult of citizens behind, and to ring down the curtain. 
We haven’t another soul to spare. 

Prof, (in despair ). Then what’s to be done ? 

Jack. Awful fix, isn’t it ? 

Snap. Don’t lose your head. My wife’s got an idea. 
( Checking off on his fingers .) You see Tullia cannot be a 
female slave, because we haven’t a young woman left; it 
can’t be a child, because he has got his hands full with the 
tumult. 


A Night Off; or, A Page from Balzac* 


62 


Jack. And the curtain. 

Snap. So there’s nothing left but to condense the whole 
part into a letter. 

Prof. A letter ! ( Crosses to r.) Are you mad ? 

Snap. Not at all. We can have a messenger bring on a 
letter. Cassius reads it. You can keep in all the poetry, 
if you like, and you have the whole effect. 

Jack (l.). But you forget, we haven’t any one to do the 
messenger. That won’t do. [. READY Susan, to enter l. c. 

Snap (nonplussed'). That’s a fact! (Suddenly.) Well, 
I’ll tell you what. You can find the letter on the stage. 
(To Professor.) It’s a wood scene. The letter can be left 
on a stump before the curtain goes up. (To Jack. Pro¬ 
fessor sinks into chair at table.) At the cue for the entrance 
of the female slave, you discover the letter, say “ Ha! 
what have we here ? By all the gods, a letter! ” — and there 
you are. Just practice that. 

[J ack does so up stage , l. , gesticulating violently, and 
mutters as if acting. 

Prof. No, no! It’s absurd ! They’ll guy it. They’ll 
howl at the whole thing. 

Snap. Not a bit! We’ve done worse than that, and 
they stood it. Just write the letter. (Pulls out MSS. and 
gives it to him.) We haven’t anything to lose. It’ll be all 
right. (Pats him on back.) 

Prof. Do what you like with me ; I’m prepared for any¬ 
thing. (Going, l.) I wish from the bottom of my heart I 
had never gone into the business. (EXITS, l. d.) 

Snap (follounng the Professor, winks back at Jack.) 
Wait here. I’ll bring the letter ! (EXITS, L. d.) 

Jack. Poor old gentleman ! He won’t know his tragedy. 

(Sits, r.) 

Susan peeps in, l . c ., and comes down cautiously to Jack. 

Susan. O Mr. Chumley, do tell me if anything is 


A Night Off; or y A Page from Balzac* 


63 


wrong. *1 listened outside, but I couldn’t make out more 
than a word here and there. I know it's about our play; 
isn’t it ? 

Jack. Yes. 

Susan. Won’t it be played ? Has anything happened 
to stop it ? Break it softly to me ; if you say “ Yes,” I’ll fall 
right down where I stand. 

Jack (r.). Calm yourself, Susan. Everything is going 
well. I’ve brought you your ticket. ( Gives it) 

Susan. Oh, dear ! “ L. — 13-15 1 ” Why, I’ll melt there. 
I don't know yet how I’m to get over. Monday ain’t my 
night out, and I never get an extra without a week’s notice 
to Mrs. Babbitt. But I’d cut over and see it, if I was to 
get warning on the spot. I couldn’t stay home with the 
excitement I’m in. Take my advice, Mr. Chumley, and 
never write a play ; I can’t tell you all the worry we’ve gone 
through with this one. 

Jack. I assure you everything will be all right. ( Crosses 
to L.) 

Susan {shakes her head). I don’t believe it! {With em¬ 
phasis) I don’t believe it. I laid out the cards last night 
before I went to bed, and they came out unlucky every time. 
{Mysteriously) The nine of spades turned up alongside the 
professor three times hand running. Ain’t that a warning ? 

Jack {laughs). Is the nine of spades fatal ? 

Susan. Don’t laugh, Mr. Chumley ! Miss Nisbe used to 
laugh at the cards once, but you should see her now. I’ve 
seen her sitting at this here table {indicating table , r.) these 
three days telling her fortune with them. {Opens drawer of 
table and produces cards) There they are now. 

Jack {anxiously). Are you sure you delivered my bou¬ 
quets to her every morning ? \READ Y Nisbe, to enter r.d. 

Susan (r.). Every morning before breakfast! 

Jack. What did she say ? 

Susan. Oh, she was furious ! 


64 


A Night Off; or, A Page from Balzac* 


Jack ( dejected ). Furious? • 

Susan. When she asked me who they were from and I 
told her, she scolded me awful. How dare I do such a 
thing, and what did I mean by it. ( Crosses to L.) 

Jack. I was afraid of that. What did she do with ’em? 

Susan ( confidentially ). She took them straight to her 
room and put them in water; and when they got faded she 
took ’em out and wrapped each one of ’em in tissue paper 
and put ’em away in her hat-box. 

Jack ( overjoyed ). Did she? In her hat-box! O Susan, 
if you knew how happy that makes me! In her hat-box, 
too ! ( Crosses to l., rapturously.) 

Nisbe ENTERS , r. d., apparently looking for something. 

NiSbe ( crossing to c.). Susan, did you see— ( Sees Jack.) 

Oh, I beg pardon ! Are you here still ? 

Jack. Yes, quite still, thank you; I’m waiting for the 
professor. 

Nis. Indeed ! Susan, have you seen my keys ? 

[Susan is about to look for them on the mantel. 
No, no. They can’t be here. I must have left them in 
the laundry, or in the storeroom. Go and see. If they are 
not there they must be in the cellar. (Crosses to r.) I was 
down there to-day. (. Pretends to look about room.) 

Susan. Yes, Miss Nisbe. (Going.) 

Jack (aside, to Susan). Susan ! Stay in the cellar as 
long as you can. 

Susan (nods and smiles, and looks at both ; then when in the 
doorway). O Miss Nisbe ! If I can’t find them in the cel¬ 
lar, shall I look in the garret ? 

Nis. Yes, yes ; only go at once. 

Susan (aside). I’ll just stay outside the door and listen. 
I’m too fond of this sort of thing to lose a syllable. 
(EXITS, l. c.) 


A Night Off; or, A Page from Balzac* 65 

Nis. (feeling in her pocket and looking around). I can’t 
think ! \They change sides, looking away from each other. 

Jack. May I help you search ? 

Nis. (l.). Thank you, Susan will find them. Won’t you 
sit down ? (Sits.) 

Jack. If you will permit me. (Shortpause. Both much 
embarrassed ; finally.) Oh ! (She starts.) I beg pardon, but 
I have suddenly remembered that I have a favor to ask of 
you. 

Nis. Of me ? 

Jack. I see a pack of cards on the table. My sisters used 
to tell fortunes with cards. Do you understand the art ? 

Nis. (eagerly). Oh, yes ! I know it very well! 

Jack. I am not generally superstitious, you know, but 
there are moods in which we long to question fate. 

Nis. (half to herself). Oh, yes; I know. I’ve felt ’em 
myself. 

Jack. I will confess to you that I am at this moment at 
the turning-point of my life. I’m meditating a step — 
( Getting to c.) 

Nis. A step ? 

Jack. A step (drops in chair) on which the happiness or 
unhappiness of my future depends. If you would give me 
but a hint. 

Nis. (pretending innocence). How ? 

Jack. I mean by the cards. Please read for me in my 
book of fate. (Hands her the cards.) 

Nis. I’ll try. (Crosses to r. She looks around, as if in 
search of something. He looks around too. She looks the re¬ 
verse way. They turn round and bump. He turns to her in 
comic surprise.) I want something to hold on my lap — a 
big book or something. (Crosses to L.) 

Jack (brings chair forward, and takes up portfolio from 
table, R.) Will this do ? [Nisbe places chair for herself 

Nis. Yes, thank you. 


66 


A Night Off; or, A Page from Balzac. 


[He brings it; he sits before her , and they place it on 
their knees together. 

That will do. ( She shuffles cardsl) You see, first I shuffle 
them. That is important. (Lays them down.) Now, you 
must cut. 

Jack. I beg your pardon ! Eh ? Oh, the cards ! I 
thought you meant — (Cuts cards.) 

Nis. There, so ! Now I divide them into four parts, and 
lay each part down so. (Does so.) Now, you must make a 
wish. 

Jack (looking up ?'apturously). I have made a wish ! 

Nis. (looks through one of the piles and fnds the king of 
hearts , and holds it before him.) Remember that card, that 
is you. 

Jack. The king of hearts— I see: 

Nis. Yes, because you are light. 

Jack. Light? Ah, light-headed — I mean light-hearted. 

Nis. (spreads out the pile in which the king is). And these 
are your thoughts. 

Jack. And what am I thinking of? 

Nis. (shakes her head at them). Nothing serious. (Puts her 
finger on one meditatively .) Here is a passing fancy ! (Finger 
on another.) And here is an early separation which you find 
it hard to get over. (Lays king aside.) 

Jack. Oh, that must be a mistake. 

Nis. (gathers up the first pile and lays it aside. Takes up 
another). Now, pay attention. (Deals them face up and 
cowitsl) i, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7. (Picks out card.) An old gentle¬ 
man. (Lays card alongside of king of hearts.) 

Jack. That’s my stern parent. 

Nis. (takes up another pile and counts). 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7. 

Jack. Seven again ! 

Nis. ( ruminating on seventh card). That’s bad! (Cheer¬ 
fully.) But it doesn’t amount to much. (Putspack down.) 

Jack. I’m glad of that. 


A Night Off; or, A Page from Balzac. 


67 


Nis. ( third pile, same bus.), i, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7. An impor- 
ant letter. 

Jack. Oh, that’s the letter we sent to make up with the 
clear old gentleman. 

Nis. (fourthpile, counting). 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7. An unset¬ 
tled, light young man. 

Jack. That must be I. 

Nis. ( returns to first pile). 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7. 

Jack. Quick was the little maid’s reply, “O master, we 
are seven ! ” ’Hem ! Wordsworth. 

Nis. A fair young woman! ( Goes back over the cards in her 
hand.) And a temporary illness. It looks like a fainting 
spell. 

Jack. But that doesn’t amount to much. 

Nis. ( places the card in the row with the others ). The young 
woman is very near you. [. READ Y Susan, to enter l. c. 

Jack ( moving the card). Put her a little nearer. 

Nis. {taps his hand; he withdraws it, and she moves the 
card back. Then takes up the third pile and coimts). 1, 2, 3, 
4, 5, 6, 7. There is a change taking place in you. 

Jack. There is; I feel it. 

Nis. {running over the pile). And in the young lady. 
( Holds up a card i?i artless surprised) See! 

Jack ( seizes her hand). Tell me about the young lady. 

Nis. (rises, shutting up book with the cards, and rising with 
the pile she has in her ha?id). No, I can’t. It’s all nonsense. 

Jack (puts chair back). How can it be nonsense, when it’s 
just commencing to be interesting ? (Goes to her.) Come, do 
go on. -i, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7. What about the young lady? 

[READ Y Snap, with MSS. and sheet of paper, to 
enter l. 

Nis. (crosses to r, ; breaks away). Oh, I — I can’t tell you 
that! 

Jack (following her). Oh, you must! I can’t give that 
seven up. 


68 


A Night Off; or, A Page from Balzac* 


Nis. Well, then. (Opening cards.) 1,2,3,4,5,657. Oh, 
I can’t I ( Dashes off, r., leaving the cards in his hand.) 

Jack. She runs off and leaves my fate in darkness. ( Opens 
cards.) If I only knew what she thought that card meant! 

Susan, l. c., puts her head in door, up stage. 

Susan. How far have you got ? 

Jack, i, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7. I say, Susan, come here. Here’s 
a young lady with a change coming over her! Seven’s the 
change, I suppose. Seven’s the nine of hearts ! (SuSan holds 
up both hands.) What does the nine of hearts mean ? 

Susan. Don’t you know ? That’s luck ! The young lady 
loves you ! 

Jack. Loves me ! Does she ? (Hugs Susan.) I’m over¬ 
joyed. 

Susan (looking up archly, as he's about to kiss her). I’m 
not the young lady, am I ? 

[READ Y Damask, to e?iter r. ; and Professor, with 
pen, to enter l. 

Jack. No, but I’m so happy! 

Snap ENTERS, l., with the MSS. and with a sheet of paper , 
071 which is writing. 

Snap. Hello! Hello! 

[Susan breaks away and goes vito alcove, dusting vig¬ 
orously. Jack turns and claps Snap on both shoul¬ 
ders, a 7 id pulls him to and fro in his ecstasy. 

Jack. Snap, my boy, she loves me ! 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7 ! She 
loves me ! (Flourishing card.) 

Snap (seizing him by the arm). For Heaven’s sake, don’t 
go off your head at this critical moment. Come, we must go 
to the theatre. It’s eight o’clock ! 

Jack. No ! It’s 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7 o’clock, Snap ! But, no 
matter, what’s an hour more or less when you’re in paradise? 
In paradise, Snap ! In paradise ! (Drags him off, l. c.) 


A Night Off; or, A Page from Balzac. 69 


Susan ( comes down). Eight o’clock! The theatre begins 
at eight, and I am still in this dress. ( Takes off apron?) I’ll 
just throw my cloak on and run over, let ’em scold as much 
as they like. I’ll have to-night to myself, if they bounce me 
to-morrow. ( Runs out , l. c.) \_READY Nisbe, to enter r. 

Damask ENTERS, r., and speaks off with great politeness. 

Damask. Only a moment, mamma. I’ll be back directly. 
(Comes down petulantly .) This is a pretty piece of business ! 

Professor ENTERS , l., wiping his pen on his coat-sleeve, 
hurriedly. 

Prof. Well, did you propose it ? 

Dam. Yes; and she won’t let us go. 

Prof. Did you tell her the president of the college asked 
us particularly to meet somebody ? 

Dam. She insists upon our staying at home this evening. 
It appears that she is feeling particularly amiable, and she 
wants to make it a peace celebration. She and Angy are in 
a state of emotional tenderness. 

Prof. That’s horrible ! ( T?'ots to window.) Look at 
all the people streaming to the theatre. They’ll begin the 
play very soon. 

Dam. ( looking over his shoulder). By Jove, it’s exciting ! 
Makes you want to jump out of the window! 

Prof. ( irritated ). And we have to stand here caged, like 
two children. ( Shows tickets.) Look, here are our seats. 

Nisbe ENTERS from r., cautiously , and closes door softly 
after her. 

Dam. What’s the use of tickets ? She won’t let us out. 
What is to be done ? I can't think of anything. 

Nis. (comingforward). I’ll tell you. 

Prof. Nisbe! 

Dam. (c.). You? 


70 


A Night Off; or, A Page from Balzac* 


Nis. (crosses to c., between them, finger to lips'). I’ll help 
you to get away — both of you. But on one condition. 

Both. Yes, yes ! 

Nis. You must take me with you. 

Prof. But your mother ! 

\READ Y Mrs. Babbitt and Angelica, with work- 
baskets , to enter r. 

Dam. How will you manage it ? 

Nis. It’s the easiest thing in the world, if you can go 
through with it. When mamma comes in you, papa, must 
commence to find fault with me; it doesn’t matter about 
what. Then I’ll give you saucy answers. Then you get 
very angry with me, and send me to your room for the rest of 
the evening. I go out crying ; you lock me in. I run down 
the back stairs, laughing, and wait-for you on the stoop. 

Prof. Yes—that’s all very well for you, but we — we ! 

Dam. Yes, that gets you out all right — 

Nis. Sh ! As soon as I leave the room you, Harry, you 
take my part. Get into a dispute with papa about his ill- 
treating me — both of you get heated ! You (to Damask) 
take up your hat at being insulted, and run out of the 
house — and join me ! 

Dam. Splendid ! 

Prof. Yes, but where do I come in ? 

Nis. Why, you seize your hat and run after Harry, to 
find him, apologize, and bring him back. 

Dam. Glorious ! (Hugging her!) Nisbe, you’re a witch ! 

Prof. Children, it’s a very good scheme, but it won’t 
work. (Goes up shaking his head , and takes a peep out of the 
window!) 

Mrs. Babbitt and Angelica ENTER at r. They bring 
their ivork-baskets , as if to make themselves comfortable for 
the evening. Angelica arranges chairs at the fire. Mrs. 
Babbitt goes to Professor, who comes from window as 
soon as he sees her. 


A Night Off; or, A Page from Balzac* 1 \ 

Mrs. Babbitt. Mr. Babbitt! Justinian! Has Harry 
told you that I wish to make this evening an occasion of 
family reunion ? 

Prof. Yes, unfortunately. 

Mrs. B. We must forgive Angelica’s husband. True, 
his past life has been a stormy one, but he repents, and we 
have pardoned. Have we not, Angelica ? 

Angelica. Yes, mamma, with all our hearts. ( She em¬ 
braces Damask, who has come to her after a brief pantomime 
aside with Nisbe.) 

Dam. My darling! 

Mrs. B. And, henceforth, no more mystery. 

Dam. (crosses to her and back , embraces and kisses her). 
No, mamma. 

Mrs. B. (to Professor). And you, Justinian, you will be 
your own old self again, won’t you, darling ? No more 
abstraction, no fits of silence, no long absences, morning, 
noon, and night. 

Prof, (absently). Certainly! Certainly! (She embraces 
him rapturously and kisses hi ml) 

Mrs. B. Children, this is a happy evening for us all. 

Prof, and Dam. (looking at each other dolefully. Pro¬ 
fessor embraces Mrs. Babbitt. Damask embraces Angelica. 
He and Professor wink at each other). Yes, very! 

Mrs. B. (sitting at fire and arranging her work). We’ll 
have a nice cosey time together. 

Prof, (looking at his watch, coughing , and looking from 
Nisbe to Damask, who urge him on). The fact is, Zippy, 
I wanted to go to the president’s for a little while; he ex¬ 
pects a friend, Professor Polhemus, from New York, this 
evening. 

Mrs. B. You can call on him to-morrow. 

Prof, and Dam. (quickly)'. Oh, no ! To-morrow won’t 
do — never’ll do ! 

Mrs. B. (decisively). You will stay at home this evening. 


72 A Night Off; or, A Page from Balzac. 

We can’t afford to spoil our family party for Professor Pol- 
hemus. 

[Both men subside . Professor at l., Damask at r. 

Prof, {aside). That won’t work. (Sits at table, l.) 

Nis . {at window). Oh, dear! {Sighs loudly?) It’s an awful 
bore ! {Comes forward .) 

Mrs. B. {looks round). What’s that? 

Ang. Why, Nisbe ! 

Nis. {coming down , c.). I said it was a bore to be cooped 
up every evening like this,.at home. {Aside, to Professor.) 
Now get mad. 

[Professor turns to look at her. Damask motions to 
him. 

Mrs. B. Well, I declare 1 

Nis. It’s worse than a boarding-school. {Aside, to Pro¬ 
fessor.) Go on. Get mad ! 

Mrs. B. Mr. Babbitt, do you hear your daughter ? 

Prof, {rises, pulling himself together). Sophonisba! I — 
I — don’t quite understand you ! 

Nis. {aside). More! More! 

Prof. Your tone and manner. {Looks at watch, and goes 
up to window .) 

Nis. I don’t know what papa has against me to-night. 
{Sits in chair, c., pretending to cry.) Only a few minutes ago 
I asked him, in the most casual manner, whether it was true 
that the Hindoos burn their mothers-in-law on the eve of 
marriage (Mrs. Babbitt starts up), and he flared up and 
wanted to send me out of the room. 

Prof. Nisbe, how dare you ? 

Nis. But I’m no longer a child, and I won’t stand such 
treatment. {Goes l.) 

Dam. {aside, r., to Professor). Now give it to her. 

Mrs. B. Sophonisba! 

Prof, {working himself into wrath). Oh, ho I You won’t 
stand it, eh? We’ll see! Go to your room this instant,— 


A Night Off ; or, A Page from Balzac* 


73 


no, go to mine, and don’t show yourself again this even¬ 
ing. (Nisbe blubbers.) Do you hear, miss? Go! (to 
others') and nobody’s to go near her. We’ll see whether 
you’ll stand it. 

Mrs. B. (r. c., expostulating). But, my dear — 

Nis. (grossing, pretending to cry, but aside). Go on; don’t 
let up on me ! 

Ang. O papa! (Mrs.- Babbitt and Angelica come down.) 

Prof. ( waving them off). March ! Go to my room ! 

Nis. (sobbing violently). Such treatment! in this house! 
oh ! oh ! oh ! {EXITS, l. d., sobbing.) 

Ang. ( crosses to l. c.). Poor Nisbe! 

Prof. ( pretending fury). What business have you to in¬ 
terfere ? [Angelica goes to Mrs. Babbitt. 

Dam. (l., pretending anger). Stop, Mr. -Babbitt! Let’s 
have no more of this. It’s no concern of mine, perhaps, 
how you treat Nisbe; but when you insult my wife —! 

Prof. Hold your tongue! 

Mrs. B. Justinian! 

Prof. You, too! 

Mrs. B. Why, what has come over you ? 

Prof, (lashing himself into a fury). You are all leagued 
together. Whenever I am really and truly comfortable, and 
promise myself a peaceful evening at my own fireside, you 
drive at me like a nest of hornets, on the least provocation. 
But, very well! ( Seizes his hat and coat , winks at Damask, 
aside.) Very well! If I can’t open my mouth in my own 
house — if I’m driven out like an interloper, I’ll go! I won’t 
be in your way any longer ! I’ll go ! 

[Damask runs up to Professor, and tides to pass 
him. 

Dam. Me first! 

Prof. No, no ; you look out for yourself. 

Dam. But — 

Prof. I’ll go ! (EXITS, l. c.) 


74 


A Night Off; or, A Page from Balzac* 


[Damask drops into chair despo?idently. 

Mrs. B. (ci). Children, what is the matter with him ? 

Ang. (c.). It’s terrible ! 

Mrs. B. Where has he gone ? What will become of him ? 

Dam. I had better look after him. Who knows what may 
happen! Angy, where’s my hat ? 

Ang. Here! ( Gets it for him from table, c.) 

Mrs. B. Run quickly ; he may get out of sight! 

Dam. No fear ! I’ll find him. (EXITS, l. c.) 

Mrs. B. (sinks in chair at L. table). Oh ! 

Ang. (in seat, r.). Was anything ever so dreadful! — and 
so sudden! 

Mrs. B. These men are perfectly senseless. 

Ang. (on her dignity). You refer only to papa, I suppose. 
My husband shows his goodness .of heart by running after 
him. 

Mrs. B. Your husband shouldn’t have meddled with him 
at first, and things wouldn’t have gone so far. 

Ang. That’s very unjust, mamma! Harry’s the most gen¬ 
erous of men. 

Mrs. B. Of course ! Especially when he runs up bills he 
can’t pay, for some unworthy creatures. 

Ang. (hotly). You forgave him, and promised never to 
speak of it again. (Rises and goes up to sofa, c .) I couldn’t 
have believed it of you. 

Mrs. B. Don’t bother me. I don’t wish to have any more 
words on the subject. 

Ang. Nor I. (Picks up “ Life,” and opens it.) 

Mrs. B. (during a short pause which follows, exhibits petu¬ 
lance, anger, and depression. Fidgets, and is altogether nervous ; 
suddenly). Ugh! 

Ang. (t vho has been reading “Life,” ?nakes a?i outcry). 
Well, I —! (Then starts up, still reading paper?) Mamma ! 

Mrs. B. (drops her work and turns). What is it ? 

Ang. This is monstrous ! (Comes dow7i to Mrs. Bab- 


A Night Off; or, A Page from Balzac* 


75 


bitt.) We have been deceived! — outraged! They are 
laughing at us. 

Mrs. B. Who ? What ? 

Ang. Papa and my husband. It was a trick. 

Mrs. B. What do you mean ? 

Ang. Here’s the whole thing in this paper. Listen to 
it. (Meads.) “ When our old friend Slyboots wishes to 
have a night out without his wife, he concocts a little plot 
with his son-in-law. At a given signal, the latter asserts 
that it is the practice of the Hindoos to burn their mothers- 
in-law on the eve of their marriage.” 

Mrs. B. (appalled). Angelica! 

Ang. (reading). “ Slyboots disputes the statement; the 
two gentlemen engage in a violent quarrel, in the course of 
which Mr. Slyboots pretends to get so enraged that he 
snatches up his hat and runs out of the house, and his son- 
in-law follows to apologize.” Just as papa did. 

Mrs. B. It’s an outrage ! A conspiracy! 

Ang. Of course ! You remember how papa flared up at 
Nisbe without reason ? 

Mrs. B. To be sure. And he sent the poor child out of 
the room. 

Ang. My dear innocent sister ! 

Mrs. B. (calling off, room l.). Nisbe! Nisbe, darling! 
Come here, my child. (EXITS, l. d.) 

Ang. (calling off, also). You needn’t stay there any 
longer. Come and sit with us. 

Mrs. Babbitt RE-ENTERS after a shriek. 

Mrs. B. Angelica ! There’s no one in the room. She’s 
gone. 

Ang. It can’t be, mamma ! (Rushes off, l. d.) 

Mrs. B. The back door’s open, too ! 


Angelica RE-ENTERS. 


76 A Night Off; or, A Page from Balzac* 


Ang. She has run off. 

Mrs. B. (screams). Now, I think of it! 

Ang. (l.). What, mamma? 

Mrs. B. (r-.). Nisbe is in the plot. 

Ang. True! It was she commenced about the Hindoo 
mothers-in-law. 

Mrs. B. Oh, the wretched child ! 

Ang. Deceitful husband! 

Mrs. B. Your conscienceless father! 

Ang. (half weeping). And Harry promised me on this 
spot, not ten minutes ago, never to tell me an untruth again. 
Mamma, this breaks my heart! (In her armsi) 

Mrs. B. My poor child ! Chained for life to a man who 
begins by deceiving you. You are, indeed, to be pitied. 

[READ Y Mulberry, to enter l. c. with Angelica. 
Ang. No, mamma! You are most to be pitied. To 
have papa end by deceiving you. Poor mamma! 

Mrs. B. My poor daughter ! (They embrace .)' 

[ The door-bell is heard to ring. 
Ang. . There’s the front door-bell. 

Mrs. B. (becoming rigid and sarcastic). Ah ! They’re com¬ 
ing back! 

Ang. (stiffejiing tip). We’ll give them the reception they 
deserve ! [Tell rings again. 

Mrs. B. Why doesn’t Susan open the door ? 

Ang. (runs to l. c., and calls). Susan ! (Listens, and then 
calls again.) Susan ! (Turns.} Susan’s gone out, too. 

[Bell. 

It’s as good as a play. [Bell again. 

Mrs. B. What is going to happen next ? 

Ang. I’ll open the door myself. (EXITS, l. c.) 

Mrs. B. I’ll remember this night as long as I live ! 
(Listens, l. c.) 

Mulberry (outside). Professor Babbitt! 

Ang. (outside). My father ? 


A Night Off; or, A Page from BaUac. 


77 


Mrs. B. A strange voice ! 

Angelica RE-ENTERS, preceding, in some alarm , Lord 
Mulberry, who is over polite. Both ladies much 
frightened. 

A stranger ! What do you wish, sir ? ( She and Angelica 

cling together .) 

Mulberry (l.). Excuse me, ladies, I’m looking for Pro¬ 
fessor Babbitt. 

Mrs. B. My husband ! I’m sorry he’s not in. 

Mul. My name is — ahem —- Mulberry. 

Mrs. B. Mul — 

Ang. Berry. 

Mul. From England. At present stopping in New 
York. 

Mrs. B. I’m very glad to see you. (Recovering, and aside 
to Angelica.) He seems to be a gentlemanly person. 

Ang. (aside, r.). Yes, but he is so queer. Look how he 
smiles and stares at us. 

Mul. Your husband, no doubt, has told you a great deal 
about my affairs. 

Mrs. B. (sardonic laugh). My husband never tells me 
anything. I have to find out everything by chance. 

Mul. (aside). Singular person ! The Professor described 
his wife as possessing remarkable sweetness of manner. 
(Aloud.) Strictly speaking, I came to see your son-in-law, 
Dr. Damask. 

Ang. (crosses to him, advancing a step). My husband ? 

Mul. Oh, he’s your husband ! Well, I’ve just come 
from your house. They told me he was here. 

Ang. (dryly). I’m sorry. He’s not in, either. 

Mul. And I am sorry, very sorry. 

Ang. If you wish to consult him — his office hours are 
from five to six. It’s now after eight. 

Mul. (aside). She seems to be a little excited, too. 


78 A Night Off; or, A Page from BaUac. 

Takes after her mother, probably. (. Aloud .) Excuse me, 
ladies; as I haven’t much time to spare, I’ll go after the 
gentlemen. Where can I find them ? 

Mrs. B. (shrugs her shoulders). We don’t know. 

Mul. And when will they be back ? 

Ang. ( crosses to c.). We don’t know that, either. 

Mul. (aside). A most singular family. (Aloud.) Then 
there’s nothing left but to wait for them. (Sits.) I don’t 
intrude, do I ? 

Mrs. B. (crosses to c., as Angelica again clings to her). 
But, what do you want ? (She speaks tremblingly.) 

[ The terror of the two ladies must not be exaggerated. 

Mul. (affected). It’s about my misguided son. The Pro¬ 
fessor told you all about him ? 

Mrs. B. Not a word! (To Angelica.) The man’s an 
impostor ; we must get rid of him. (Gets behind Angelica.) 

Mul. (at table, seated, l., to Angelica). The doctor told 
you, of course ? 

Ang. He did not. 

Mul. (rising. Severely to both). That is incomprehen¬ 
sible to me. The doctor wrote me a letter four pages long 
about the scamp. I received it yesterday, and flew here to 
see the boy. 

Mrs. B. Indeed! (Aside, to Angelica.) We haven’t a 
soul to send for a policeman. 

Mul. You must know that the rascal has played the 
most incredible pranks. For two years I haven’t heard a 
word of him. And now your husband writes me that he is 
in this place, reduced to extremity, and praying for pardon. 
(Deeply affected and sinking in chair.) My poor Jack ! 

Ang. (aside, to Mrs. Babbitt). I’ll slip out, mamma, and 
call a neighbor. 

Mrs. B. Don’t leave me ! (Grasps herl) 

Mul. (to Mrs. Babbitt). I knew how it would end. He 
began by a series of low attachments ; first with one public 


A Night Off; or, A Page from Balzac* 


79 


character and then another. Wasted his time, his money, 
his friends, and my patience. Collected a number of rings, 
photographs, and unpaid bills. 

Mrs. B. {suddenly interested'). What? 

Mul. Ruined himself, and finally bolted to America. 
(Crosses to r.) 

Ang. {open stage). Mamma, this case is exactly like 
Harry’s ! 

Mul. {crosses to c. betiveen the two ; produces the pocket-book 
of Act II.). You doubt it; look here ! Evidence furnished 
by himself. 

ANG. {screams). Gracious heavens ! Harry’s pocket-book. 

Mrs. B. How did you come by this ? 

Mul. It belongs to my son. He sent it to me through 
your daughter’s husband. 

Mrs. B. {appalled). Oh ! 

Ang. Are you sure ? 

Mul. Oh, I can verify the vouchers. {Opens book and 
produces articles.) Here’s a picture of my son’s enchant¬ 
ress. I’ve seen the hussy. {Putsphoto on fable.) Here’s a 
lock of her hair. She wears a wig now. Her ring. And 
here are the bills I’m going to pay. {Crosses to r.) 

Ang. Mamma, did you hear ? 

Mrs. B. With our money ! 

Ang. {to Mrs. Babbitt). My husband invented another. 
falsehood. Palmed somebody’s adventures off for his own ! 
{Struck.) Unless — {Seizes Mulberry.) Is my husband 
your son ? {Turns away bewildered, up stage.) Oh, no, no ! 
This is madness. 

Mul. {looks at both astonished). It certainly is. {Crosses 
to c.) 

Mrs. B. (l., takes up the photo). But I saw and spoke 
with the uncle of that girl. 

Mul. Uncle! {Takes the photol) She never had an 
uncle. {Puts articles in pocket-book.) 


SO A Night Off; or, A Page from Balzac. 


Ang. Another falsehood ! ( Throws herself into chair 1) 

Mrs. B. (in chair). To make a fool of me before a 
stranger! 

Ang. O mother! [ READY Nisbe, to enter l. c. 

Mrs. B. My poor child! 

Mul. ( looks at both with-a knowing air). They begin to 
make me feel uncomfortable. Something’s wrong here. 
(Retreating nervously up c.) Excuse me, ladies. Had I 
seen that the story of my misguided Jack would have ex¬ 
cited you so — 

Ang. (starts up furiously). What do we care for your 
Jack? 

Mrs. B. (seizes Mulberry). One word! Do you know 
Camille ? 

Mul. Camille ! No ; let me go ! (Tottering c.) I must 
get out of this, or I’ll lose my reason ! It’s a family of 
lunatics ! (EXITS, l. c.) [ READ Y Susan, to enter l. c. 

Ang. ( resolutely , and striding across the room). Mamma ! 
first of all, I’ll get a divorce from Harry! Open, persistent, 
and incessant falsehood must be sufficient cause. 

Mrs. B. Quite right, my child! But he shall account to 
me first. \_Bell heard. 

Ang. (screams). Ah, there he is ! (Runs up, c.) 

Mrs. B. Just in time ! (Crosses to R.) 

Nisbe ENTERS, l. c., and rushes weeping into 
Angelica’s arms. 

Ang. Nisbe ! is it you? [Nisbe sobs. 

Mrs. B, (r.). Where have you been ? [Nisbe sobs. 

Ang. What has happened ? [Nisbe sobs. 

Mrs. B. What are you crying for ? 

Nis. (crosses to c.). Oh, it’s horrible ! (Sobbing.) Let me 
be ! Let me be ! 

Ang. Mamma, she’s trembling all over. 

Mrs. B. What’s the matter ? 


A Night Off; or, A Page from Balzac* 8f 


Ang. ) Nisbe! 

Mrs. B. \ (toget er). Speak, can’t you? 

[READ Y Damask and Professor, to enter l. c. 
Nis. (sobs). I can’t! (Sobs.) Oh, it was dreadful! (Out¬ 
burst of sobs.) 

Ang. Mamma, she goes on as if she had seen something. 

Susan, l. c., first heard howling outside, now ENTERS. 

Susan. Oh, oh, oh! (Throws herself in chair, l., rocking 
herself.) 

Mrs. B. You, too; what is it? (Crosses to her and back 

to R.) 

Susan. Oh, I can’t tell you. It’s too horrible. 

Nis. (crosses to l. c.). O Susan, were you there ? 

Susan. I was ! Oh, oh, oh ! 

Nis. Wasn’t it awful ? Oh, oh, oh ! 

Ang. Come, Nisbe ! Come to your room ! Tell me all! 
Nis. (is led off, r.). Oh, oh ! That I should live to see it! 
Oh, oh, oh ! Poor papa ! (EXITS, r., with Angelica.) 

Mrs. B. (calls after theni). Put her to bed. (To Susan.) 
Run to the kitchen ! Bring a cup of hot tea, quick ! 

Susan. Yes’m. Oh, oh ! Poor Mr. Babbitt! Oh, oh, oh ! 
Poor Professor ! (EXITS, l. c.) 

[READ Y Angelica, to enter r. 
Mrs. B. What can it mean ! [Nisbe heard crying off r. 
I’ll get the hot drops ! (EXITS, l.) 

When the stage is empty, Damask puts in his head, l. c., looks 
round, the?i puts off his hand and drags on the Professor. 

Dam. Now you’re all right. Nobody here, fortunately. 
Prof, (staggers to seat, c.). Harry, I can’t walk! My 
knees are tottering. [He is led to seat, c. 

Wasn’t it terrible ? (Drops into chair.) 

Dam. Compose yourself. All may not be lost, if the audi¬ 
ence did hiss a little in the first act. 


82 


A Night Off; or, A Page from Balzac. 


Prof. Hiss a little ! At one time I thought sixty steam- 
pipes had burst upon me, all of a sudden, and all at once. 
No, no I my kind-hearted boy, you needn’t try to console me I 
It wasn’t the hissing ; they laughed — laughed out loud at my 
tragedy! \READY Mrs. Babbitt, to enter, l. d. 

Dam. But, Professor — 

Prof. There was one boy in the gallery with a whistle ; 
that whistle will vibrate in my ears till I die. 

Dam. Don’t takeTt so to heart, and speak lower. Cour¬ 
age ! Hush ! somebody’s coming ! 

Angelica runs i?i from r. 

Ang. Mamma, where is the — ( Sees the others .) Ah ! 
(Stands and stares at them.) 

Dam. (crosses to her, affecting nonchalance, and with exagger¬ 
ated kindness). Well, darling, what are you looking for ? 

Ang. (looks at him from top to toe ; then). I am looking for 
my mother, sir. (EXITS, l. c.) 

Dam. (stares after her, then turns to Professor). She’s 
looking — for — her — mother! 

Prof, (rises). Sir! 

Dam. I don’t like that look. 

Prof. Hush ! my wife ! 

Mrs. Babbitt ENTERS hurriedly, from l. d. 

Mrs. B. Here are the drops ! (She has a small vial in her 
hand; sees them, and stops suddenly.) Oh ! 

\_READ V Snap, to enter l. c. 

Prof, (goes to her very affably'). What drops, darling ? 

Mrs. B. (looks him all over). Drops for my daughter! 
(Crosses to him.) But I’ll see you again later, Mr. Babbitt; 
depend on that! (EXITS, r. d.) 

Prof. (l.). They know everything ! 

Dam. What if they do ? What do they know ? What do 
we know ? Who knows how the play’s gone on since we left ? 


A Night Off; or, A Page from Balzac* 83 

You would bolt at the end of the first act. The others may- 
go off like fireworks. 

Prof, (shakes ' his head very dubiously). I think I hear 
them fizzing now. 

Dam. Why, you said all along that all the acts were 
better than the first. Take that situation at the end of the 
second act. That must please the boys. 

Prof. Not that boy with the whistle. ( Crosses to r.) 
Dam. Nonsense ! Let’s go back to the theatre and see. 
You may be called out! 

Prof. Yes, by the police ! 

Damask is about to lead him off, l. c., when Snap is heard to 
utter a loud u Oh ! ” outside, a second one in the archway ; 
he then comes forward in his long ulster, the collar turned 
up, and hat over his eyes. 

Snap. O Professor ! Professor, Oh ! 

Prof. Speak, man ! What is it ? 

Dam. How is it going ? 

Snap. It’s all over! ( Lamenting, beating his head and 

knees.) It’s all over ! 

Prof. I knew it. (Sinks.) 

[Damask holds him up by the armpits. 
Snap (starting up). When I think of this happening to 
me in my old age ! 

Dam. Tell us all about it. 

Snap. I’ve been a manager twenty-five years, but I 
never had such a failure as that. 

Prof, (feebly). How did it end ? 

Snap. How did it end ? It ended in a riot ! That’s how 
it ended. 

Prof. A — a — riot ! (Sinks in chair.) 

Snap. We had to ring down in the middle of the second 
act.' I never heard such hissing and whistling on a railroad 
train. The audience jumped up and down like madmen, 


84 


A Night Off; or, A Page from Balzac, 


and shouted and guyed! I can hear 'em now, on my en¬ 
trance, “ Bully for Titus Tatius l” Oh ! 

[READY Mrs. Babbitt, to enter r. 

Prof. ( stagger's to a seat , c.). It must have been horrible. 

Snap. But half the calamity was your fault, Doctor. The 
tragedy was not all to blame. It was your parrot ( crosses to 
him ) capped the climax. The pine grove is in the second 
act, you remember, and Cassius had just come on, and the 
audience was quiet, for they took to him at once. I was 
standing in the centre, as King Titus Tatius, with my arms 
folded, just so, glaring at the Roman soldiers, and my wife 
had just finished Virgia’s great speech, defying the haughty 
Romulus : — 


“ What would’st thou, king, 
Thy stubborn silence break, 
What would’st thou, 
Tyrant! answer, speak!” 


when your confounded parrot squeaked at the top of his 
voice ( crosses to l.) : “ Kiss me, darling.” (Professor, hor¬ 
rified, starts up stage , sits on the steps , and buries his face in his 
hajidsi) Of course that settled it. The audience rolled off 
their seats; the boxes emptied like one man, screaming with 
laughter; and the gallery broke into a row, when my eldest 
daughter had presence of mind enough to lower the curtain. 
What has happened since I don't know, for I threw on my 
ulster and fled through the stage door, and here I am. 

Prof, (rises). Oh, dear! If it leaks out now that I 
wrote the piece, I’ll have to leave the town. 

[READ Y Susan, with tea and cups , to e?iter l. c. 

Dam. Sh! Mamma! 

Snap. The old lady ! The deuce ! 

Prof. Not a word before her. 


Mrs. Babbitt EN1ERS , r. 


A Night Off; or, A Page from Balzac. 


85 


Mrs. B. Now, Mr. Babbitt. (Sees Snap.) Ah, you are 
here again, are you? (Looks at Damask.) The uncle, I be¬ 
lieve ? (Crosses r. c. To Snap.) Whose uncle ? 

[Snap advances to her. 

Dam. You are mistaken, mamma. This is quite another 
person. 

Mrs. B. (to Damask). I am quite aware of that, sir! 
Don’t you interfere ! (To Snap.) Who are you, sir, and 
what do you want here ? 

Snap (l. c.). Madame, I — 

Prof, (aside, l.). Keep still! 

Dam. I must interfere. You are laboring under a delu¬ 
sion. This is Professor Polhemus, from New York. 

Prof, first, and then "Snap (grasping at the idea ). Yes, 
Professor Polhemus, of New York. 

Dam. You remember we were invited to meet him this 
evening. 

Susan EN1ERS, l.c., with tea and cups , which she puts 
on table , L. 

Susan (sobbing). Here’s the tea, ma’am. 

Mrs. B. Well, then, Professor Polhemus, from New York, 
make yourself at home. Take a cup of tea. (Crosses to 
table , L.) [.READ Y curtain. 

Prof, and Dam. Yes, make yourself at home, Professor! 
(Both assist hi?n.) Take off your coat. Give me your hat. 
Sit down, Professor. 

[_As they unrobe him , he is discovered in full Roman 
costume , — white tunic , belt , fleshings , bare arms ; 
but on his feet a7'e old street gaiters. 

Mrs. B. (screams, and drops the cup she was about to offer - 
him). What’s this ? 

[.Her screams bring Angelica and Nisbe to door , r. 
and C. Getieral dismay and 


QUICK CURTAIN. 


86 


A Night Off; or, A Page from Balzac* 


ACT IV. 

SCENE. — Same as Act III 

Snap is discovered asleep in the alcove at back, a large 
rug thrown over him. The Professor is writing 
at table, L. He looks very much disordered and 
played out. Is writing as the curtai?i rises. 
READ Y Susan, with breakfast on tray, to enter 
l. c. 

Professor (laying down his pen). That’s done. I’ve 
asked for leave of absence from duty at the college. I 
could not face those boys. [Enoch heard. 

My wife ! (Goes to door , r.) Is that you, Zippy ? 

Susan (outside). No ; it’s I, Professor. Open the door. 

Prof, (unlocks door). What do you want ? 

Susan ENTERS, l. c., bringing in tray , with breakfast. 

Susan. I’ve brought some breakfast, Professor. (Ruts 
tray on the table.) 

Prof. I don’t want any breakfast. 

Susan. That won’t do. Look in the glass and see how 
haggard you are. Have a cup of coffee, anyway. 

Snap (sitting up). Might I ask for a cup, too ? 

Susan. Jiminy! What’s that? 

Snap (rises and comes down. Has on trousers a?id a coat 
much too small for him ; no shirt, but the Roman breastplate in 
its stead). Don’t get frightened ; it’s only me. 

Susan (r.). Why, Mr. Snap, what are you doing 
there ? 


A Night Off; or, A Page from Balzac. 


87 


Snap. I’ve been stranded on the sofa all night, and the 
Professor helped me out with his wardrobe. I didn’t dare 
to go home to my wife after that horrible fiasco. 

Susan (crosses c. to Professor). Now, you haven’t been 
in bed, either. 

Prof, (l., waking up). I spent the night in that arm¬ 
chair. 

Susan. It’s awful! And you won’t take breakfast ? 

Prof. I can’t. I’m full now — of trouble. 

Snap. If you don’t mind, I’ll help myself. I must fortify 
myself against my first meeting with my wife. (Pours out 
coffee , and eats , r.) 

Prof, (aside). I don’t dare even think of my wife. (To 
Susan, aside.) Susan, has she given you any message ? 

Susan (c.). Nothing, sir. Oh, she’s in such a rage ! 
We all caught it last night. First, Miss Nisbe ; then I. 
Missus talked to me as if I’d written the play myself, and it 
was all my fault. Well, I had my doubts when you were 
reading it. I like sad things at the theatre, but that was 
too sad. It was too miserable ! 

[REAP) Y Jack, to enter l. c. 

Snap. You don’t know anything about it. If it hadn’t 
been for that parrot! You’ll see when we play it the second 
time. 

Prof. You don’t imagine for one moment I’d ever let 
the piece be played again ? 

Snap. Why not ? Let’s talk calmly. 

Prof. The manuscript shall be burnt; that settles it. I 
hope nobody in the city knows I’m the author. 

Snap. Rest easy. Nothing can be got out of my wife, 
and as for me — 

Prof. I depend upon you. I quit town to-day, if I get 
the leave of absence I’ve written for. 

Snap. But, my dear Professor — 

Prof. Not another word. I’m going to pack up my 


88 


A Night Off; or, A Page from Balzac. 


things. Susan, bring my sole-leather trunk down from the 
garret. ( EXIT, l. d.) 

Susan (sobbing and gathering the bi'eakfast things together). 
He was such a kind master, and to think the like should 
happen to him in his old days! {EXIT, l. c.) 

Jack ENTERS, l. c., hurriedly. 

Jack. Oh, there you are, at last! Been searching for 
you everywhere. I’ve a most important communication. 

Snap. If it’s anything exciting, have the goodness to 
break it to me gently. I’m not toned up for a surprise. 

Jack. My father arrived here yesterday. I spent the 
whole night with him, and we had a complete reconciliation. 
I shall leave for home with him to-day. 

Snap. How long a leave of absence do you want ? 

Jack. My dear fellow, it is not a question of leave of 
absence. I wish to tender my resignation, and say good-by 
to the stage forever. 

Snap {utterly crushed , sinks hack). That — that was the 
only thing wanted. {Starts up, hut with difficulty , on account 
of his tight dress.) You can’t go — you are indispensable. 
{Crosses, l.) I don’t refer to your talent, but to your unap¬ 
proachably aristocratic wardrobe, and your nationality. I 
tell you, I’ve been a manager for twenty-five years, and I 
never had a leading man before with eight suits of clothes. 
How can we give a society play if you go off with your dress 
suit and your crush hat ? 

Jack. My dear Snap — 

Snap. No false modesty ! Your things fit every one of 
the company like gloves. Even my wife made an immense 
hit as Nan, the Good for Nothing, in your velvet jacket. 

Jack. We can easily settle that objection. I’ll leave you 
my theatrical wardrobe as a souvenir. 

Snap {with feeling). Mr. Chumley, you have not only a 


A Night Off; or, A Page from Balzac. 


89 


true society manner, but a genuine respect for art. I admire 
you and I thank you. 

Jack. That is not all. My father happens to own the 
ground upon which they put up the new Frivolity Theatre, 
in London. 

Snap. London ! The birthplace of Shakespeare ! Oh ! 
— but go on. 

Jack. If you release me gracefully, you shall be installed 
as manager. 

[READ Y Nisbe, with large valise , and Susan, with 
basket , to enter l. c. 

Snap. Manager! In London! It has been the dream 
of my life to manage a theatre in London — or anywhere, 
for a whole season. You are discharged on the spot. 

Jack. Well, then, it’s settled? 

Snap. I should say so ! But you must come with me to 
my wife; you must be there when I tell her about the 
theatre. You’ll see what joy means. That unapproachable 
woman has borne our privations with resignation and cour¬ 
age, but I know that it has long been the secret hope of her 
heart to be able to stay in one place for more than “ six 
nights only.” Come, we’ll go to her together. 

Jack ( hesitating ). I’ll follow you later. I’d like to say 
good-by to this family first. 

Snap. Very proper. The Professor is in there. ( Points , 

L. D.) 

Jack {crosses to l.). Thank you. I’ll knock. ( Goes to 
door and is about to knock , when he hears Nisbe’s voiced) 

Nisbe (outside). This way, Susan. In here. 

Jack (aside). Oh, there she is. 

Snap. Well, why don’t you knock? 

[Jack imposes silence by a gesture as 

Nisbe ENTERS , l. c., with a large valise , Susan following 
with a basket. 


90 A Night Off; or y A Page from Balzac* 

Nisbe ( resting, c.). Put the basket down yonder. ( Points 
down r.) I’ll pack up by and by. 

[Susan puts the basket down, r., and EXITS, l. c. 
Nisbe puts the valise down ?iear alcove, R. c.; sees 
Snap. 

Oh, pardon me, I’m looking for papa. 

Snap {up r.). The Professor is in that room. {Points l.) 

Nis. I suppose you are waiting for him. I’ll knock at 
his door. {Goes to l., and sees Jack.) O Mr. Cassius! 

Jack {gets quickly between her and the door). Please, Miss 
Nisbe, don’t knock! 

Nis. Why not ? 

Jack. Wait here a little while — I mean — that is — you 
might disturb your father just now. {Comes from door.) 

Snap {officiously). Oh, no ! He’s only packing up. I’ll 
knock. {Crosses to c.) 

[As he goes to door, Jack and Nisbe get r. and l. of 
him, and keep him back. 

Jack (l.). No, no ! 

Nis. (r.). It’s not at all necessary. 

Snap (c., comprehends the situation. Looks at both, chuckles, 
and then goes; aside). Oh, I begin to see. Act one, scene 
two — the lovers meet! Everything in this house is as good 
as a play. {Aloud.) All right! {Crosses to r.) Don’t be 
afraid. I won’t disturb the Professor. It would be down¬ 
right rude of me when you two are decidedly opposed to it. 

Jack {confused. Waves him off, a?id takes Nisbe’s hand). 
The fact is, Miss Nisbe, I have something very important to 
say to you. 

Nis. Is it very important ? 

Jack {warmly). I think so ! 

Nis. {warmly). Really? 

Jack {looks at his watch). And time is pressing. The 
train leaves in two hours. {Crossing c.) I must leave for 
New York with my father by the twelve o’clock express. 


A Night Off; or, A Page from Balzac, 9\ 

Nis. (crosses to c.). And I start for Boston with mamma 
at 12.20. 

Jack (looks at Snap impatiently). Who knows when we 
may meet again ? 

Nis. (crosses to c., looks at Snap impatiently, then says 
sadly). Perhaps never. 

Snap (bluntly). Then I should say the best thing would 
be to speak right out now. 

Jack (crosses to c.). But, my dear Snap, what I have to 
say to this young lady must be said without witnesses. 

Snap (crosses to c.). Then all I’ve got to do is to exit 
centre, and leave you together. 

Nis. (innocently). No, no; that won’t help us. Even if 
he goes (crossing to c.) we may be interrupted. Papa may 
come in any moment. 

Snap. She thinks of everything, just like my wife. 

Nis. (to Jack). I don’t suppose you could write to me ? 

Jack (eagerly). No ; that’s quite impossible. 

Snap (wickedly). Quite impossible. There are some 
things that can only be settled by one’s own lips. 

[Nisbe crosses , r., in a huff. 

\READ V Professor, with valise half full, to 
enter L. d. 

Jack. Of course ! 

Nis. (naively). It’s a dreadful plight, isn’t it? And I’m 
sorry I can’t help you out. I have to go and pack up now 
in there. (Pohits r.) This valise. (Goes towards r. with 
valise , and turns.) Is there anything so fatiguing as to have 
to pack a big valise all by yourself ? 

Jack (goes to her eagerly). If you would allow me to 
help you — 

Nis. I should be delighted. You know it’s ever so much 
easier to put in things while somebody holds the valise open 
for you. 

Jack (takes the bag , and presses it to his heart). Let me 
hold it. I’ll do it with all my heart. 


92 


A Night Off; or, A Page from Balzac. 


Nis. ( crosses to Snap). I hope you will excuse us, Mr. 
Snap, but you see we haven’t a moment to lose. 

Jack (crosses to c.). And so much to do. 

Snap. Oh, yes, I know. Well, if you lose no time, you 
may catch the train. 

Nis. That’s so — come! (EXITS, r. d.) 

Jack. Oh, yes. I’m coming. (EXITS after her.') 

Snap (sighs). Ah, I guess he won’t need any prompter 
in the part he’s playing now. 

[EEAT Y Angelica and Mrs. Babbitt, to enter l.-C. 

The Professor ENTERS, l. d., in shirt sieves , with a 
valise half full. 

Professor. I’m more than half full, and I haven’t got 
quarter in yet. (Puts valise on table , L.)* 

Snap (stands before door , r.). Excuse me, Professor, but 
you don’t want anything in here ? 

Prof. In there ? No, no. 

Snap. I’m glad of that. The fact is, I’m on guard, and 
nobody must go in here for fifteen minutes. I have an im¬ 
portant engagement, and if you would only take my place — 

Prof. (begi?i7tmg to pack). Yes, but — 

Snap. The fact is, there are two people in there who are 
preparing a surprise for you. (Aside.) I’ll run over to the 
hotel, and send his lordship. If those two in there are firm, 
they may get his consent on the spot. If they can’t get it, 
they had better know the worst at once. The Professor 
sha’n’t have more than one tragedy on his hands at the same 
time. (EXIT, l. c.) 

Prof, (sighing). I don’t believe anything will surprise 
me now. (Goes up into alcove to get some wearing-apparel , 
which is placed there.) 

Angelica ENTERS, l. c. ; speaks back. 

Angelica. Come in, mamma ; there’s nobody here. 


A Night Off; or, A Page from Balzac* 93 


Mrs. Babbitt ENTERS. 

Mrs. Babbitt. I’m glad of it. 

Prof. My wife ! ( Half draws the curtain noiselessly.) 

Mrs. B. There are certain people I prefer not to see. 

Ang. (l., soothingly). But, mamma, we must meet papa 
some time. 

Mrs. B. I don’t see the necessity. Attend to me. I 
have given you the keys of all the other rooms. Keep them 
until your father demands them; that is, if he ever has the 
face to communicate with you. You may lock up this room 
when we leave. I merely wish to take my portrait out of 
it. ( Takes portrait off the easel , r. h.) It is out of place. 

Ang. (has discovered the Professor, a?id says aside to 
Mrs. Babbitt). Papa is up there behind the curtain. 

Mrs. B. {godig on with her work, speaks the following with 
intentional frigidity). Give the picture to the servant. Let 
her carry it up to the garret, and store it there with the other 
lumber, with its face to the wall. 

Prof. ( groans , and comes forward with a coat and vest in 
his hand ). O Zippy, you rend my heart! 

Mrs. B. {ignoring him entEely). With its face to the wall. 
That settles it. 

Prof, {drops on his knees'). Zippy darling, are you going 
to leave your home ? 

Mrs. B. {speaks to Angelica, as if entirely oblivious of the 
Professor’s presence). I told you before, my resolve is ir¬ 
revocable. I shall go with my poor penitent Nisbe to my 
sister in Boston. The train leaves at 12.20. There we 
shall both be safe from contamination and deceit. 

Prof. (r.). Zippy, look at me. 

Mrs. B. {to Angelica). Did you speak ? (Professor 
totters to his feet and buries himself on sofa at fir el) 

Ang. (l.). Don’t be so harsh, mamma. I have forgiven 
Harry. 


94 A Night Off; or, A Page from BaUac* 


Mrs. B. ( contemptuously ). Indeed ! 

Ang. We had an explanation, and made it all up. To 
be sure, he was guilty in deceiving me; but as his deception 
was in trying to make me believe he was worse instead of 
better, I could easily forgive it. He is a perfect angel. He 
has no past. He never had a past. I think I like him that 
way best. [. READ Y Mulberry, to enter l. c. 

Mrs. B. (l. c.). Really! So he’s got you to believe him 
again ? Poor lamb ! But your husband has youth as an 
excuse. He hasn’t played the clown at sixty, 

[Professor groans. 

and disgraced a gray-haired wife and grown-up children. 
He hasn’t descended to the meanness of plotting with your 
domestics behind your back. 

Prof, (coming down). But, Zippy! I only tried to give 
you a pleasant surprise. 

Mrs. B. ( still addressing Angelica). A pleasant surprise, 
indeed! You’ve made a fool of yourself, and all of us, be¬ 
fore the whole town. I could have forgiven anything but 
that. ( Crosses to r.) 

Prof. (c.). I can’t argue with the back of your head! 
{Goes l., angrily .) If you won’t look at a person! ( Com¬ 
mences to pack things furiously in valise on table, L.) 

Mrs. B. (to Angelica). Now help me to pack this bas¬ 
ket. 

[ They go, r., to basket; arid during the following 
Angelica opens the cabinet and helps her mother to 
pack silverware, small boxes, jewel-cases, etc. 

Lord Mulberry ENTERS, l. c. 

Mulberry. Here I am, dear friends. 

Prof. ( testily, after lookmg at him). Oh, bother ! {Packs 
valise more vehemently, pulling out two articles to put i?i one, 
etc.) 


A Night Off; or, A Page from Balzac* 95 


Mul. ( looking at his watch). The train starts in an hour, 
so if we make haste we can talk it all over. 

Mrs. B. (aside, vexed). What does he want now? 
(Wraps up articles handed by Angelica, and packs vigor¬ 
ously.) 

Mul. I suppose you’ve been expecting me ? 

Prof, (l., impatiently). Can’t say we have. 

Mul. (poking him i?i the side). Capital! Oh, play the 
indifferent! The father of the girl always does. But of 
course you don’t mean it. That Mr. Snap told me every¬ 
thing is as good as settled. 

[ The Professor looks at him, holds up his hands in 
puzzled expression, and packs. 

Mrs. B. (looks at Angelica and then at Mulberry). But, 
sir, you see we are busy. 

Mul. Oh, packing! Don’t let me stand in your way. 
Perhaps I can help you; I understand the art to perfection. 
(Takes a?i ornament from l. table and wraps it in several scraps 
of paper which he takes from the waste-basket.) 

Prof, (impatiently). May I ask what you wish here, any¬ 
how ? 

Mul. (laughing). What I wish ? That’s capital. That’s 
neat. (To others.) Now, listen to the Professor, ladies, 
coolly asking me what I wish. (Crosses to Professor, still 
w?'apping the omiamentl) Why, you sly dog you, how can 
you play off so ? You’d make a capital actor. Ladies 
(crosses to them, still wrapping), he’d make his fortune on the 
stage. He ought to play in that piece I saw over the way 
last night. [ The ladies exclaim. General groan. 

Prof. Will you, once for all — 

Mul. (nudges him). How do you like my son, now that 
you know him, eh? I think him changed — changed for 
the better. (Puts the ornament he was wrapping in the bas¬ 
ket, and packs it in.) And why? — eh?—why? (Nudges 
him.) It’s love. (Picks up another a?'ticle from the table, l., 


96 


A Night Off; or, A Page from Balzac* 


and commences to wrap it up in newspaper , which he takes from 
table.) “ Oh, ’tis love, ’tis love ! ” etc. 

Prof, (l., in despaiif Possibly. Anything you like — 

Mul. (to Mrs. Babbitt). Madame, he’ll make the best 
husband in the world ! ( Packs the last article he has been 

wrapping in her basket. ) The boy is so good-hearted! 
(Takes a bead cushion from an armchair near by, and begins 
to wrap that up.) You have no idea how much he esteems 
and values your whole family. ( About to put the cushion in 
the basket.) 

Mrs. B. ( preventing him). What are you doing there ? 

Mul. Oh, isn’t this going ? ( Pulls cushion out and throws 
it on sofa.) He told me all about it last night. Confided in 
me. He never confided in me before — and I consented. 
0 Commences to wrap up a footstool which he picks from the 
floor.) I know it’s all right, for the rascal has excellent 
taste. ’Gad ! so have I; it runs in the family. And now, as 
to what the young people will have to live on. ( About to 
pack the footstool in the Professor’s valise.) 

[READY Nisbe and Jack, to enter r. d 

Prof, (hurls footstool away). You must be aware all this 
doesn’t interest us. 

Mul. (seizing his hand). Noble sentiment! But the chil¬ 
dren must live. (Crosses to Mrs. Babbitt.) My boy is just 
like your husband, no thought of the morrow. He takes the 
girl just as she is, but you and I are sensible. 

[READ Y Damask, to enter l. c. 

Mrs. B. (sarcastically). I have strong doubts. (To Pro¬ 
fessor.) How long is this to last? Mr. Babbitt, will you 
quietly but firmly show this person the door ? 

Mul. (amazed). Show me the door ! But I thought it 
was all right. My son led me to believe — and that Mr. 
Snap assured me! Why, I thought that you and I should 
dance together at the wedding. 

Mrs. B. (r.). In the name of all that’s irritating, at 
whose wedding ? 


A Night Off; or, A Page from Balzac* 


97 


Nisbe and Jack ENTER , r. door , hand in hand. 

Jack. At ours, I hope ! (To Mulberry* presenting 
Nisbe.) Well, sir, did I exaggerate ? Here is your 
daughter. 

Mrs. B. What’s this ? Nisbe! Mr. Babbitt! 

Prof. This is the surprise Snap spoke of. 

Nisbe (crosses to him). I couldn’t help it, papa. Mr. 
Cassius made love so naturally. 

Mul. (joining their hands). You see, I was right after 
all. [Mrs. Babbitt and Professor go l. for exploitations. 


Damask ENTERS , l. c. 


Damask. Professor, great news ! 

Ang. What is it ? 

Prof. Never mind your news. We’ve got the greatest 
news in here just now. 

Dam. Oh, I see ! (Crosses to Angelica ; shakes hands 
with Jack.) I congratulate you. (To all.) But that’s a 
minor consideration. Only think, I’ve been told all over 
the city that the performance last night ended in a great 
success after all. 

Ang. 


Mrs. B. 

Nis. (hugging him). 
Prof. 


(together). 


What ? 

Is it possible! 

O papa! 

I don’t want to hear 
another word about 
it. 

Mul. Do you refer to the play over the way at the 
Opera House last night ? \_READ Y Snap, to enter l. c. 
Dam. Of course. 

Mul. I was there. 

Mrs. B., Dam., and Ang. Well ? 

Prof, (crosses to him). Well, how was it? 



98 


A Night Off; or, A Page from Balzac, 


Mul. A great success ! Capital piece! I never saw 
anything finer. 

Dam. I told you ! 

Nis. and Ang. ) . . . There, papa! 

Mrs. B. I <****->• J U s tini a n! 

[READ Y Susan, with basket, to enter l. c. 

Prof. But I thought the curtain had to be dropped in 
the middle of the second act. 

Mul. So I heard. I did not arrive till later. I was told 
there had been some interruption. 

Dam. But the management skilfully turned the tide of 
feeling, and the performance went on to a happy conclusion. 

Prof. (rubbing his hands'). So they liked it ? 

Mul. Immensely. 

Mrs. B. Justinian, this atones for everything! 


Snap ENTERS, hastily , L. c. 

Snap. Professor! Professor! Have you heard ?• We 
had a gigantic success after all, last night. 

Mrs. B. ( crosses to him). Yes, we’ve heard all! (Offers 
her hand.) And I forgive you for the uncle and Camille. 

Prof. Now we’ll all take a holiday together. Suppose, 
instead of taking it in different directions, we all go to New 
York? 

Mul. With me ? That will be delightful. 

Prof. Let’s pack, then ; we’ve only forty minutes. 

All (in commotion). We’ll all help ! 

Susan ENTERS, l. c., with clothes-basket nearly full of knick- 
knacks. And from now until curtain falls all busy them¬ 
selves with packing. Mrs. Babbitt down r. with 
Angelica. Damask and Jack with Nisbe, l. Profes¬ 
sor and Snap down c. Mulberry and Susan running 
with articles between each group. 

Snap (to Professor, aside). Don’t come back too soon. 


A Night Off; or, A Page from Balzac. 99 


Prof. What do you mean ? 

Snap. The performance last night was saved by my 
wife’s presence of mind again. 

Prof. She’s a trump ! 

Snap. She is. When she saw that your piece was irre¬ 
trievably damned (all stop packing) in the second act — 

Prof. Well, well ? 

Snap. She dropped your tragedy altogether, and substi¬ 
tuted in its place —- 

Prof. What ? \_READ Y curtain. 

Snap. A Night Off ! ! ! 

[Professor sinks in chair. Amid the animation 
and confusion ofpacking , and just as Jack is kiss¬ 
ing Nisbe, the 


CURTAIN FALLS. 


>©©©©©©©©©©©®©©©©©©©©©©©©©©©©©©©©©©©©©©©©g> 

' WHAT’S NEXT? f 

A Farce-Comedy in Three Acts, by Bob Watt. © 


PRICE, 25 CENTS. 


Seven male, four female characters, with four utility parts to be doubled by 
the preceding. If desired, a lot of school children can be worked into the 
first act. Two interior scenes, School Room and Parlor; easily staged ; can be 
played in any hall. A “specialty” play that is simply three acts of laugh. 
Has a first-ratf leading soubrette role (Country Girl). Audiences will giggle 
over this play for a month and then want to see it played again. 


CAST OF CHARACTERS. 

Polly Poke, a conundrum £ 

Mary Ann Fogarty, from the Emerald Isle ) .eouDreice i.eaa. 

Rose Madder, a victim of the green-eyed monster . ...Juvenile Woman. 

Gertie Gush, of uncertain age, and after a husband .Ingenue. 

Mrs. Wallace, a fascinating widow on the lookout for 

number two . " 

Dr. Charles Chintzer, generally called “Chub,” who 

takes what turns up ...Light Comedy. 

Moses Madder, an artist with a great head for business.Eccentric Comedy. 

Phineas Poke, one of the deestrict school board, and pro¬ 
prietor of Poke's Pine Potion .Eccentric Old Man. 

Zeph Somers, a rustic with “ Injuns ” on the brain .Eccentric Comedy. 

Timothy Trenwith, a specimen from Texas, in search of 

his daughter ..Comedy Old Man. 

Willy Nilly, a dudelet from Gotham .Comedy Dude. 

Michael McGilp, wan av defoinest .Dialect Comedy. 

Time of Representation, Two Hours and a Half. 


SYNOPSIS OF INCIDENTS. 

ACT I.— The Bogtown District School. Chub’s story.—Scheme No. 1.— 
’‘Have you a week-day and a Sunday name ?”—Poke’s Pine Potion.—The 
eompact.—Polly’s first lesson in love.—One of the deestrict school board.— 
Visitors.—“ Washington crossing the Alps.”—Scheme No. 2.—The school ex* 
amination.—Zeph makes a sensation.—The young idea out shooting.— 

“ Danged if it ain’t like the circus! ” 

ACT II.— Moses Madder’s Studio in New York. A domestic set-to.—Willy 
comes in, in a hurry.—“Bwing on the girl and the minister.”—Polly paralyzes 
the dude.—‘‘You’re a pretty good liar, ain’t you ?”—Hiring a “boomer.”—' 
Chub aud Polly.—Gertie gets gushing.—Timothy Trenwith, from Texas.— 
Zeph has another conniption.—Getting some points from the widow.—A jolly 
row in the house.—Willie gets left.—Madder’s schemes grow shaky.—“First 
scalp for Zeph!” 

ACT III.— Scene as Before. A flattering arrangement.—“ Look here, I 
ain’t no angel! ’’—Polly’s plan.—Willie in trouble again.—Gertie and the 
widow have another tiff.—“Sufferin’ Cyrus, what shall I do!”—Another 
scheme smashed.—Mary Ann Fogarty on the servant question.—Gertie 
catches a man at last.—“ The circus is going to begin.”—Willie runs amuck 
with wan av the foinest.—Madder’s masterpiece.—The “ boomer ” takes a 
trick.—“ I’m as happy as ef I owned the hull state of Texas! ’’—Gertie on the 
warpath.—“O, Chub, that kerflumuxes me! ’’—Willie and the widow.—” I’ve 
got a little lie and I can’t tell a hatchet.”—The last scheme knocked in the 
head.—“ What’s Next ? ” 

J£5P“ Copies will be mailed, post-paid, to 
any address, on receipt of the price. 

ig HAROLD ROORRACH, Publisher, 132 Nassau St., New York. ^ 

















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ALL THE COMFORTS OF HOME. 

PRICE, 25 CENTS. 

A comedy in four acts, by William Gillette, as 
first produced at the Boston Museum, March 3, 
1890. Authorized copyright edition, printed from 
the original prompt-copy. Ten male, seven female 
characters. Time of representation, two hours 
and thirty-five minutes. 


A NIGHT OFF. 

PRICE, 25 CENTS. 

A comedy in four acts, from the German of Schon- 
than, by Augustin Daly, as first produced at 
Daly’s Theatre, New York, March 4, 1885. Au¬ 
thorized copyright edition, printed from the original 
prompt-copy. Six male, five female characters. 
Time of representation, two hours and a half. 


seven-twenty-eight. 

PRICE, 25 CENTS. 

A comedy in four acts, from the German of Schon- 
than, by Augustin Daly, as first produced at 
Daly’s Theatre, New York, February 24, 1883. 
Authorized copyright edition, printed from the 
original prompt-copy. Seven male, four female 
characters. Time of representation, two hours and 
a half. 

¥ ¥ ¥ 

Any of these plays will be sent, post-paid, 
to any address, on receipt of the annexed price. 

HAROLD ROORBACH, 

Theatrical Bookseller, 132 Nassau St., New York. 

































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